Exoskeletons We Were

Shapeshifting used to be easier than this.
Bones never broke before.
Hearts never broke before.
But you stayed a scorpion for too long
and I needed to feel teeth upon fur
and blood in my mouth.

( Napowrimo day 3 poem )

A Haiku for Coffee

Burn out my insides
Brewed gasoline for my blood
Black water magic

( Napowrimo day 2 poem )

Aubergine in the Night on the Floor

Come morn I will mourn the absence
of arms like vines holding me
down on this garden bed of
delights, and fingers like tendrils
tangling through my hair.
I want to wallow in this nightshade
forever, because come morn
you will disappear into the mechanics
of a day that demands all your fruit
sprouted from your sweat and tears.

(Napowrimo day 1. I used the prompt here: https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2019-april-pad-challenge-day-1)

What is Growing in the Forest

I had to burn you out of my heart
and press your name to the underside
of a monarch butterfly’s wing.
A fir tree in Mexico now knows your
name and the seeds of possibilities
that I don’t want to remember anymore.
Thousands of miles away a forest is breathing
you in while a butterfly sleeps.
I’m sleeping thousands of miles away
forgetting your name.

I would have given you my ocean.
The dark
The deep
The moon tides lulling you to sleep.
You could have crashed upon my coast
and rested your head upon my dunes,
until you were ready to set sail again.

I would have given you my ocean.
The stillness
The secrets
The salty foam splashing your mast.
You could have anchored yourself in my deepest trench
and let my waves pull you under and back over
until you were ready to be released.

The Straw Man Diaries Part II

It’s the month of the dead
and there he is
still straw filled and
The mice kept coming and gnawing
at his apple core heart.

But it’s okay, I tell crow.

No, he isn’t worth the roots of the scars
tangling your heart,
crow says.

But I’ve been digging and making myself smaller
so that he could be bigger. Crow could already
smell the bones popping out of my body.
And there are no gods here
just crow, straw, bones, the mud
and me.

Celebrating Litha Dancing the Dizzy Circles

around the basil burning bonfire
’til her head explodes-
soul visions sprouting
violent violet tendrils
while the fire whispers lullabies.

A Girl From the Fields and Pines

I used to pretend that I was not from the crawdad holes, the dandelions, and the
wheelbarrows of horse manure.
How hard I tried to hide the smell of clover, willow wreaths, and baby robin
feathers outside of my heart.
I packed these things in a metal lunchbox along with the stick forts, the chiggers, and grass stained knees
and buried it beneath a baby pine.
But buried things don’t stay buried forever.
Laughing at the lightning in the concrete jungle gave me away, and the way
that I could tell that a sunny summer day was about to throw a tantrum,
and the always saving earthworms from the sidewalks.
And one day I opened that rusty old box,
and I found my heart also inside stitched up with cicada skins and baby rabbit fur. (a girl will always try to revive the dead baby rabbits that the cats killed)

The Straw Man Diaries Part I

The moon lied to you
the crow said
He’s shallow, look at how easily he floats.

We fished him, crow and I, from the creek
out back.

No he’s not
I said
he’s just full of holes.
He wasn’t always this way.
Watch how I can stuff him
full again.

I took golden straw, dandelion heads,
and bits of my tears
and packed this deep into his
heart hole.

I stuck him under the willow tree
for three moons
so the creatures and fae could bless
him and eat the rotten parts off.

The Path to E minor for an emPath

Put me in the rocks
I will build me a home.
Rocks as a child.
Rocks as a woman.
Hide my face.
Hide my soul.
All those buckets of soul
sludge that
the others dump onto me
I throw into the shale and lime
stones mixed with my blood and threads of soul
and tell the creek to wash
it all away from me
before I am not me anymore….