cutting fruit at night

cutting fruit at night

bloodpooled pears

pocket knife

bruise pruning

it’s midnight on a wednesday

don’t you know 

front stoop alive with juice

slicing skin chunks thoughts 

collecting bowl between feet

she’s in one of her moods again

deciding to process the pear harvest 

before tomorrow

deciding who to be

before tomorrow 

downpour

every time it rains

the sky is pouring one out for the homies

all the dead gods

not the greek ones or whatever

the ones so old

no one remembers their names

and on the hard days

the sky cranks up the boom box

extra loud

the favorite songs

to crash and crack

open 

the clouds

geode

tenderness is a bludgeon

gentleness is the hammer

cracking open the geode

every soft gaze is a blow

again, please

aren't you aware?

just the inch of your hand

that contains your fingerprint

splits rock

revealing gems long buried

releasing water

summoning heat

your laugh -- 

already it has left

spider line splinters

all over my surface

don't stop now

ego death at pilates

it didn’t happen because of anything enlightened

I simply ceased to exist

eyes locked with the body in the mirror

I realized I am not

and dissolved from within my polyester leggings

the idea of being a separate entity?

absurd.

take me back. 

grandmother's mirror

ever since I was a little girl

I never liked the way I looked

in my grandmother's mirror

no matter what the angle

unflattered and unfettered

me

I could never meet her gaze

until today

the first visit just

grandmother and I

after grandfather's passing

we make eye contact

reflection & I, we

hold steady the gaze

we are different people

now

reflection & I, we

hold the hands of ache and age

not the other way

around

and the mirror speaks it

back and forth

a woman who meets her own gaze

a woman who meets the gaze of life