Thursday, February 11, 2010

Things I'm saving for later


I remember
the special kind of cool
that you get in churches
in the summertime,
walking alone in the aisles
with my hair down
and feet bare.

I remember
lying under a bush
with strawberries and a book
with the cool moss
pressing designs
into the skin of my elbows.

I remember
the heat from the fire
on my shins
and the cold air
on my calves.
I would come inside,
face flushed,
smelling like wood smoke.

I remember
it’s beautiful,
and someday,
I’ll remember it for you.

Girl, Seventeen, American


Laying by the pool,
the hot cedar deck
floats heat waves
up through my beach towel
and I wonder
how long
until I’m medium-rare.

I know it’s silly
to see how long
I can lay still
before I get
that achy feeling in my stomach
that’s the human equivalent
of the turkey button popping up.

But I discovered something.

All the feminism
and self esteem in the world
never entirely erases
the images
of sleek, bronzed goddesses
slipping into crystal waters.

I may prefer to be intellectual,
but even intellectuals see Cosmo
in the grocery store checkout line.

Transition Period


Dirt roads,
windows down.

Hot air
blowing dust into
our teeth
our eyes
our hair.

We deserved
a summer of freedom,
or so everyone said.
We didn’t even
have to fight for it.

Unsupervised bonfires
movie nights
“Mom, I won’t be home ‘til late.”

I have no idea
how we got away with it

or how we got out of there alive.

Luminary


When I was in love with you
I was lit like Times Square.

If you brushed against me
the place glowed
for days,
making me look like a tramp
outside a cheap bar,
the dirty light
eaten by her polyester dress.

I wore your words around my wrist
like a cut-rate rosary bracelet,
all pale blue plastic
and tacky nylon cord.

I would lay in bed and wonder
if lightning bug are embarrassed
by how their butts light up
when they’re looking for a mate

…and if it’s at all like
how I’m embarrassed
that you can flick my smile
on and off
like a light switch.