bookshelves

The smell of print and ink and worn pages
greet me as I walk slowly through the columns of books
tracing my finger along their spines
My eyes glance quickly between titles, across authors
Near the end of that shelf
I stop to pick one
And right then and there
I fold onto the floor
crack open the honey-colored pages
and quietly begin to disappear.

hands

The setting sun lights up
Tiny handprints,
scattered along the window,
that mark the moments
when a child's ungraceful steps
depended only
on a sheet of glass
to keep stay upright
-- slowly, slowly
it begins to crack
and we all fall through.

ticket stub

Carnival remains scattered across the grass
trampled by a thousand running feet
pulled by the flashing lights of the carousel
and the ferris wheel
and the look on your face
before you turned away
shut everything down
and left me with only
the torn stub from our trip
through the House of Mirrors.

polaroid

Your long, straight hair,
brilliant in the rays of light
outlining pastel white clouds,
whips behind you as
your delicate, joyous face,
(bright eyes, sweet smile)
turns in quick excitement,
you and your laughter
dancing on the air
running wild in that
rusted orange sundress
through the tall, leaning grass
in echoing silence of memory
and long gone.

crash landing

I can't let myself stop
to think about it
because my head
will float in the clouds
for only seconds
before my engine stops
and I plummet down
for a crash landing.


"May angels lead you in."

The way your eyes crinkle as you slowly display those glittering whites,
I wonder if you can still see what you're smiling at.

the list

Seeing my name beside
His and Hers
Yours and Theirs
sent a shiver through my spine.

How could I
ever be worthy to call myself
one of Them?

When would I
be enough to rightfully claim
that spot?

I will live if only to know that one day
I will belong
among Them,

among Us.