All I Need


Sometimes, I forget
how I’m built, unable to listen
to the ticks
the slow mechanism
shifting away from

Sometimes, I search
for my mother, now laying in bed
under the bright lights,
her slow mechanism
frightening my nightmares
“This is reality,”
she said.

Sometimes, I don’t care
of the world, but I see her
back bended
a U not built for elasticity,
and underneath
eyes locked, hands firm
working, sewing
fabrics of years

But every time, she’s all I need
she’s all I dream, and each time I cry
for her, only her words
of comfort
of acceptance
of everything the seas, children, cities, and lovers
cannot give me
is all I need.


Gentleman Friend


‘It doesn’t mean
I don’t love you’
                            I looked at him with my frail eyes.
I felt defeated
               standing before her resolved eyes.
               ‘No. It just means
                               you can’t take it anymore.
    You’re done
                        and I can’t even make you happy.
    It’s too late to pull
                               you back through here, with me, right?’

Running my hand
through his hair, I merely said,
                            ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

The silence locked us in —apart in rooms across each other.
The sunless day
slogged through
and our time together
held the contentment
of a patient walking for the first time.

‘I feel normal with you.
                There was never the need
to make my days grand
                 or wild
                 or different with you.’
He smiled.

I took his gaze

and held it, smoothed it out,
until I realized,            
                                ‘I gave away tricks and cheats,  a long while ago’.

A Moment


Perhaps not real but true,
The mother and daughter run

It’s not like calling in sick out of the blue,  
For that moment, done

Once the lie works. It goes back
To the beginning, warming up

cause they’ll be together despite the lack
Of time and time that spills over the cup.


Not Quite


There are trigger words you like
to shoot

to abruptly deter me,

like a half closed cap of
an upturned bottle.

You do this so I won’t feel helpless,
despite the obvious blows on my soul.

A word
slingshots after the last letter,
and I’m left, static and bemused

by the dirty words that silence me.

this silence
is not tyrannical.
I live within muted colors, not suffocating colors.

I think it is a lie, your protection.
The inclusive ambience
is meant to exclude
Me, I know.

And in burning days, you wish
nice –ooh, that word! –
wouldn’t bother you

Yes, the sweat rolls
off into our grimy sinks
One day soon, the auspicious
will slip,
“Not quite,” I’ll proclaim;

I’ll walk
to the other side

and you, on the
kitchen floor.

For A While


       For a while

I lived loving you

And talking about


my tongue soon


that people began to notice,

      they were upset

I tried spitting, then



my lungs soon shrank, shriveled

they disentangled from my

       body and I stopped