I shaved my hair for fun but now it won’t grow back, patches like holes in the friendships that have grown over the past year. // I can’t feel the tips of my fingers, my knuckles too heavy to add a pen to their weight. But I’ve got that friend who tells me I’m smart when I do my NY times puzzles, and she still tells me that even when I don’t. // And I’ve got that dog that stares at me like I am more captivating than anything she’s ever seen. // It’s 100 degrees for the 6th day in a row, my heating pad cranked to match. but my love thinks I’m hotter than any of that, even more now with the scars of time and test results. // I don’t want to wear the outfit but my sister knows why and decides to match me instead. // And I still cry every October 3rd like it’s that one, but I don’t cry alone anymore.

Do you ever feel astonished by the finality of this moment Watching you dog root around in the soil, convinced today he will catch that squirrel Soaking in each ray of sun the Pacific Northwest clouds above allow Watching him sway with the wind, his nose dancing its hummingbird beat Barking his yearning for my protection, oh why do I wish that moment forward when really I want it to last forever - a love letter to my dog

When I think of the woman in my lineage,  I know that I carry their strength,  Their unfaltering confidence, The unwavering backing of their truth I stand on the backs and soil of tenacity, Of tightly grasped complacency, Steadfastness rooted in self-approbation The backs I stand on remain beacons of strength, flood lights shining on their supposed truths, Ever a reminder of the power of my voice,  One that could demand destruction with a snap can surely be re-aimed  I know that I carry lost voices, lost dreams Silenced by the backs I stand on The dirt beneath my feet reminding me I carry it all: Their strength, their steadfastness, Their cruelty, their games, their sick pride; The revelry in death at their hands, their words But, I carry it so differently I am here to turn them on their head, make them roll over On their stomach in the dirt, they’ll hear me change it, change everything Their choices are not mine, but the strength is and I will continue to break it open;  That strength now used as a propulsion of love, and never again hate — I carry such power; I mustn’t misuse it

i don’t want to care if this gets me anything this is for me this is for who i used to be and who i don’t know yet but i think she wants to play guitar  my fingers calloused from the strings what manicure, these hands wash dishes, and walk dogs, open bottles, and hold their face for a quick kiss i don’t want to care if there’s a result of pencils on pages or outcomes  no reason other than to have it to grasp it and hold it play it or kiss it soak it all the way in no results i don’t want to care if it gets me anything