Relations — Poem

Family scattered

throughout the house

Sugar sits in different shapes

on every table

Video games and movies come

and go through the little family room

The kitchen is filled

with promises of baking; “tomorrow!”s

stacked on every shelf

My dad’s booming voice rings

inside my head as I come down

to breakfast, if I’ve woken up early enough,

and grandma still can’t hear him.

I chase her,

and my mother, away

from sweets meant for under the Christmas tree

And St. Mother feeds us all, despite

being the one

who likes cooking the least.

“We’ll cook!” we say, but

it’s just time to play:

“How much should we get wrong before we ask her for help?”

and she cooks anyway.

There are fights, that is certain,

between whom is the variable. If

your money’s on mom and dad,

it’s not much of a gamble.

But there are fewer, I think,

and since I’m the sole one still growing,

I can’t help but wonder

if I’ve learned something

worth knowing.



Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash


When Driving in Fog — Poem

I can feel it
seeping in through my ears,
swirling around my mind, threatening
to coat my eyes.

“When driving in fog, do not turn on high beams.”

But the lever is right there;
light is right there!

“They will only reflect off the fog and make it harder to see.
Stay on low beams and drive slowly.”

Click, lever on.
Click, lever off.
Debate whether to switch lever on again.

“If fog gets too bad, pull over and wait for it to pass.”

But while I wait for it to pass
I will watch the world around me
pass as well!


I will watch

And maybe, for now,
that is enough.



Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Idols/Favorite Authors — Poem

I build a home in your words

Sink into the comfy armchair of your thoughts

Prop up one of your pages, a mirror in which to do my morning makeup

I strap on your sentences, ready to face the world

With your paragraphs in my pockets, I am safe

They are not a helmet or a shield, but the ability to bleed

I press them against my heart, wishing I could push them straight through my chest

But I can’t. And that’s okay

Because I will grow up in the home you have built me

And then I will build one of my own


Photo by Janko Ferlič on Unsplash

Courage — Acrostic Poem

Crumbling nerve

On trembling knees

Unbinds what once we could not see

Reaching out into pitch black

Alone, and asking nothing back

Grants us all we’ll

Ever need: our perfect, moving own two feet.



Photo by Cherry Laithang on Unsplash

Breathe — Acrostic Poem

Breathe in the day,

Rich and raw, waiting for you to see

Everything it holds; how it

Awaits your gentle molding — your

Touch alone. Every line of your fingerprint.

Hands such as yours were meant to sculpt

Every moment sits… and waits.



Photo by Surachet Khaoropwongchai on Unsplash

Quiet Girl — Poem

Quiet girl,
I know it’s taken you a while to uncurl
lips that twist and turn between teeth
that test and taste each word before creating
a carefully considered sentence you hope will meet acceptance

Quiet girl,
I know how out of character it is for you to share
just a couple spare words that you didn’t prepare to share
hours before you got to where you had to pretend to care
about the kind of hors-d’oeuvres each partygoer preferred

Quiet girl,
Do not hide how your cheeks flush as people rush
to tell you how quiet you are.
Your silence is not a license for people to assume
this is a crisis.
When they tell you who you are, you are not obliged to hide behind
“Oh, I’m just tired.”

No, you are quiet.

Quiet girl,
Whose eyes hold the vastness of the stars in the sky but is asked why she is so shy
by a man whose only try at getting her to talk more is to say
she’s quiet.

Quiet girl,
No, you do not have “resting bitch face” unless
the boy standing two paces away who has said even less today
and could go hundreds of miles without a single smile
has it, too.

True, you are not the life of the party.

You are the ears,
the eyes;
you are the scribe.

You are not hiding, you are writing
lines and lines of humanity behind your eyes.
Let your lashes rest against your cheeks and read
the seeds of life that have blossomed into a book
only you can see.

Quiet girl,
While you can define anyone with lines and lines from the encyclopedia behind your eyes, they
can only find one word in their minds to describe you:


Close your eyes
and read.



Photo by Xan Griffin on Unsplash