Shinkai

It sinks to the depths.

Rushing in like birdsong
to empty ears, the waves
are a starved creature
grown anxious with age
and impotent with rage.
The jealous granddad.
He snaps happiness like twigs:
strands of warmth float down
from the sun’s outstretched eye,
falling like feathers into
the deep-sea currents
where they shudder and die.
A blue summer,
unfriendly to the newcomer.
Cheap funeral site.

In lieu of flirting with caution,
a gust of wind scratches the surface
with an open hand,
a last wave to solid land.
It sinks to the depths.

Reignstorm

I.

You were fashioned from dust
As the worms on your forebears,
A king not patient nor just
But the stuff of nightmares:
Binding with shackles,
Guarding with jackals.
Cities step back
As the madman cackles.

—And sure as dusk gives way to night,
He, too, will someday cease to fight.

II.

You, a lady of fluttering faith,
Dripping with lies and subterfuge,
As silent and silky as a wraith
But unable to fend off the deluge:
Sore and bitter,
Soon to skitter.
Easy on the eyes
But a heavy hitter.

—And sure as dusk gives way to night,
She, too, will someday faint from fright.

III.

Your aura is a roaring blaze
That could overtake the sun—
Though curiously, your gaze
Is a soft and tender one:
Careful and kind,
Clearly inclined
To be true to what
Is on your mind.

—But sure as dusk gives way to night,
He, too, will someday dim his light.

IV.

You are watchful as the skies.
Hawk on one arm and dove on the other,
You’re the endless and loving eyes
That all the mortal ones call Mother:
Never fleeing,
Always seeing.
Yet not a thought
For your own wellbeing.

—And sure as dusk gives way to night,
She, too, will someday lose her sight.

V.

King and
Queen and
Knight and
Pawn,
Where will
We go
When you
Are gone?

Paternity Test(iness)

when I was a girl
I misspoke
got called out on it
and my heart broke
like Grandma’s old vase
that we knocked over
and couldn’t replace

so that day the universe
all went still
just ‘cause God likes
to fuck with my head
when he has time to kill
speaking through Mom’s mouth
with stiff words like
“that’s not your name”

(‘cause I guess I’d thought
that their dad and mine
were one and the same)

and I swear up and down
that I’m fine with it now
but
wow
one day God’ll get his
when I strive to make him feel
as watery as I did that day
by breaking the news
that he’s not real

Four-Five-Styx

Twenty knocks on the door.
The doorman is beckoning;
it’s time for a reckoning
so he knocks thrice more.
Brain freezing.
Nerves seizing.
The numbers don’t mean a thing
till the doorbell decides
to ring.

one for sorrow
two for joy
three for a girl
four for a boy

And once they choose
that’s what
that’s when
that’s how
you lose.

Girl with Gauges

This is a memory that’s collected dust.

I was fourteen and no fan of fashion, or of females. Though I did enjoy films. And friends. She asked if we could see The Devil Wears Prada and I said yes for lack of spine.

The day was hot and my skin stuck to the seat of her mother’s convertible. Back then I didn’t have enough shame to be afraid of shorter clothes. In the light my legs were pale as chalk, the veins in my arms showing through like only glass separated them from the outside world. And they’re still that way, mostly.

The White Stripes played on the radio—on the drive there or back, I can’t recall. While she sang along I breathed in air so thick it felt solid. The mother may have smoked, but that part is blurry too.

We watched from the back of the theater, the floor under us as sticky as the heat. I drank soda, she had candy. I laughed at the funny parts because really, it wasn’t that bad a film. And once it was over, with one quick stop at her mom’s, we were done for the day.

We forgot to be friends, and after three years without a word to each other she showed up at my high school’s GSA. There was no way for me to tell her that in spite of the ridiculous piercings she looked cute. Nor could I say that I liked the sound of Samantha far better than Sam. Instead I smiled and tried not to think of when I slept over at her house, eating crème brûlée Häagen-Dazs and reading about conspiracy theories and trying not to wake the others with our laughs.

And I hoped she would come next time. And the time after that.

And she did.

And she didn’t.