Tag Archives: doubt

Mind Reader

Where are you
you absent one
who knows
that now is when
I need something
large and warm
to crawl into
something like
an old quilt
with lots of color
and comfort
something marsupial
with a heartbeat
something easy
to get out of
when I’m weak
with uncertainty
and no sense
of direction
where are you
when I am lost
in dysfunction
no one can see—
where is the question
I need you to ask:
Are you okay?
And I won’t even
need to say no.








“Woman with Red Umbrella” By T.C. Steele



After all this time
you thought that love
might be floating
in the air between you—
might be settling
onto your skin
like a favorite
flannel shirt with
frayed edges so soft
you don’t want
to remove it for anything—
but maybe you don’t feel
the same to him
because he doesn’t seem
to want you
wrapped around him
in those photographs
he offers to the public eye
wearing that smile
you were certain
was meant only for you.








“The Gleaner” by Jules Adolphe Breton, 1900

The Answer

Maybe love isn’t the answer
after all
to the question of happiness
which was never part of the plan
when the cells
that would become us
were dividing into our ancestors
who never knew how easy
life would be in the future
with sharp tools and wheels
and gods
we are no longer required
to believe in or praise
for giving us a desire for love
that many of us will never find
so it seems like a good idea
to bury our hearts
in a mass grave dug
with a mass-produced shovel
and seek unconditional devotion
in the divine and perfect form
of cat or dog.











to hear
your request
which felt
like a complaint—
and I could see
your feet
in my imagination
as my lips
into a grin—
a wish
you’d like me
to fulfill—
and your
that I failed
to see this need
fills me
with joy
that you
are human
after all—
that I have
any power at all
to hurt you—
even if
it’s only
a little.






Still Life

The thing is—
he could
he can
he does
cut me open
just by leaving
me alone
when the space
between us
begs to be
by a word
or a promise
of nearness
but there is
so much
filling me up
I don’t know
if there will be
room for him
when he—
he decides
to come.






“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” by Caspar David Friedrich, 1818


It’s off
and you know it
and there’s
just no way
to settle it tonight—
so you go to bed
wondering how
you could have
been so mistaken
when you put
a little black
into the white
the painting to
become a little
more exciting
with shadows
so close
to the light—
but you ruined
the tone
and the mood
and the whole entire
sky is wrong
it wasn’t supposed
to look like rain.








Exit Strategy

You need one
even if you think
you’ll never use it —
go ahead and plan your escape
while you’re still in love
and still think
maybe it will all work out okay—
that he’ll begin to see you
the way you see him—
with a power to illuminate
like a candle in the middle
of a midnight room,
making even the darkest spaces
with the soft light of hope—
but you know how quickly
a fire can start
and get out of control
if even the gentlest wind
blows a corner of the curtain
into the hot yellow wick—
so you need to listen
for that intuitive alarm
inside your smoldering heart
which will go off
when you’re close
to getting burned—
and it will sound like the wail
of a fire truck off in the distance
except it will be you, crying,
as you make your way
to one of your
designated exits
which might be the bathroom
or the basement—
but don’t expect a rescue.
You’ll need to save yourself
this time
or your whole heart
will go up in flames.