5-minute poem

1.23.14

Salt spread yesterday turned


the parking lot white as clouds.

I cried at having to live


this morning. There’s been a poem

nudging me all week, 


lump in the throat,


literal illness. 


When am I going to know what it means?


Every day I feel like giving up


and don’t.

Saviors

1.4.13

quiet in the new year, unborn
sitting in the glow of my special lightbulb

when we were kids, my sister and i
would sneak eggs from the carton
wrap them in dishtowels
and place them under reading lamps in the living room

i think we knew it was hopeless

there are people everywhere i can't save