signs of aging

and the birthday candle went out with the breath

There are times when i realize

the leaves sing softly to the beings of this

world
there are moments alone
when i hear the black bird agreeing with

my unconscious mind

perhaps the ghosts of children past
students who were called from this world
to live in another
are they still living? trapped or not. unaware of staying.

did someone see them again? roaming the halls

on their way to 1st period

Spanish

English

Algebra
Biology History: the school in Springfield

haunted by bullets
is there a science that can explain

this light?
a haunting that is not dead.

why do we still stare out at remnants                the leaves at our feet
the photos
don’t lie
a healthy glow–thin and smiling
still depressed

here
fat and smiling

would she say:

You’ve lost track of who you are by living

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sweet tooth

darling,

i see the dark flecks

the way the skin under your eyes falls

those dark circles are

dis-illusion:

love
so sweet
the molars rotten

silk strands cannot break through
the build up
without release
there is no encore
the mouth sore

the sensitive tooth
begins to give
into this

sweet love fallen fast
as time slips into cracks

your beating heart
awakened: a stabbing jolt

the drill, the pick

an open mouth
in awe

looking forward to see behind      dark

waxing crescent

waiting to be full

Happy Birthday Gram

i realized all the stories are serious

i am a hyper-emotional environment

you can have that line

i am eating soup and ice cream to counter the heat

i am remembering what i always remember on your birthday

i drove hours to see you make a wish

and sing your own song

i will try to remember another memory

yours

I will count how many spiders, silver fish, and mosquitoes we let out

and all the ones we accidentally crush

i will read with your voice

the severed tongue i inherited

i will sing

love

i am missing you, your arms, holding your hand

carefully this time: rubbing the knots out

i will continue to watch my hands

become yours

praying mantis

yesterday we walked in search of a pot to make soup

G has caught his co-workers’ illness

as we turned to leave the first shop

defeated

there on the wall

i pointed to the green statue

a time for stillness

i have been re-reading graduate writings

three years removed: the confessional moved the girl to the mountain of solitude

and now: she is hidden under green

standing ever so still