Tag Archives: poetry

March 30

Soon it will be spring, and the crows will circle back

Around the city, where the pavements are clear of snow

But there’s little time to fix the damaged or unpack

And unpick icy blunders, for they too are heavy and shallow.

Soon it will be spring, and the blossoms will act as a seasonal clock

And the remnants of winter will be confined to a kettle’s hiss —

Warning calls cushioned between a dulled knife block,

A drying rack and the memory of a virgin I’m afraid to miss.

Soon it will be spring, and the earth will soften as the sun hits

Unwashed windshields; and I will breathe for the first time in a year,

My discomfort has shifted from pear seeds, to cherry pits,

To plum stones; overripe fruit having grown out of fear.

Millennial healing begins with a warm pint at a pub, I’ve already had a few

But my mama still thinks I’m made of stars and I desperately want it to be true.

The extremely serious thought process of almost making a fake Instagram account to stalk someone

FUCK why am I like this

This is NOT okay

(I think)

Lots of people do this right

But then would I still be a unique human being if I did what everyone else did and

Participate in the same definitely weird cultural rituals as everyone else does and

Give up any remaining shred of dignity I have to indulge my base interests but,

Like, he’s really cute, lol

What if I miss some important information like

If he’s dating someone and they pop up on his story and

I miss it and

I try to talk to him or something and

He’s like what the fuck are you doing get away from me you crazy bitch and

Thinks I’m creepy forever and everything could have been avoided if

I just saw someone on his Instagram story and gave up my dreams

But making some fake account is kind of an obvious move right, like

I’d have to invent some kind of fake profile — or maybe just make it private but

I’d still have to add a profile picture to not look suspicious and

Who has time for that and

He probably doesn’t check who watches his stories anyway

(I think)

So maybe it’s not the moral high ground but it’s also not the moral low ground

It’s more the moral mid-ground and

Is this really where I draw the line like

When does it officially start to get creepy anyway I mean

What’s the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of ‘stalking’ because

I feel like they don’t update it enough so Instagram probably doesn’t count yet right

That means I’m clear

For now

(I think)


Fuck it I’m tired

I give up.

(For now)



is the secret pleasure

of smoldering at a stranger

on the street,

knowing your eyes —

let alone you —

will never

again meet.


looking in from the outside

guessing at the life that happens

behind the orange glow

of a stranger’s window at night.

a story — like so many —

that isn’t yours to know.


the way an old person looks at a child

warms and breaks the heart.

two strangers share

the deepest stare.


a man wearing a denim jacket

and worn denim jeans

picked up a cigarette butt

from the sidewalk,

inhaling the final word

of a stranger’s seven-minute story.