We’re the rebels in your backyard
your sweet-smelling clean closet.
Off they come from that clothesline
we’re takin’ ’em from your hills hoists.
See us as we fuck with your day while breaking
a beat or two as we dance and move.
There’s nowhere for you to hide your
sun-kissed clothes as we pack ’em up.
We’re the morning fresh sunflowers
switchblades of the badass suburbs.
My ovaries laugh when he says kind things, yet they won’t get the chance to see you come into the world.
You will be of other parents and I will remain barren and alone, or is it just the hormones telling me lies?
I’ve struggled with the choices I’ve made, yet I made those choices for a few good reasons.
I struggle without my daughter, but if she came into the world then it would never be as I imagined.
There’s too much horror for broken people like me, so we:
laugh hard; and
for so many long-winded reasons.
I see the normal ones. The ones who can have it all. I see them and then I look deeper. Cracks lay across the picture. Black ink seems to smear parts of the image. Underneath there are pieces of them hurting, hating, hiding, hitting, kicking and screaming, dying, crying and lying.
I see no normal ones. Instead, I see many filters blocking out reality. I see myself and I know that life is about fate and destiny, but also about strength and courage. Life is about love, but not this anger that’s consumed me for too long.
Sitting and feeling sadness boil into anger and resentment, I write it all out. Perhaps I will never have my daughter, but then perhaps no one else will too.
Lost in the echoes
of barren land without snow,
wishing to see you.
into each other,
the train seat.
A sharp instinct for the smell of roses and figs.
I stand alone as
clouds move across the shy sky
thinking of the way
the forest is like your soul
when the snow falls on me slow
grey moves in to darken the sky
the atmosphere changes inside
rain moves on the house windows
meandering water stops my mind
fresh rain smells calm a hot heart
rain dots the wooden window sills
standing and forgetting the sorrow
grasping the raindrops falling soft