Some of my favorite poems 👇🏻
1️⃣ A Fan of Linguistics
30 months after being
born when I barely
knew how to talk,
I became a worm.
Roaming around books,
meeting tigers, counting apples.
A shoe size later,
I found a pencil
under my uncle’s desk.
He had sharpened it
so many times, it
was now too small
for his hand but
perfect for mine.
I hardly knew the
alphabet, but I collected
random letters on a
craggy piece of paper
with hopes
that a word
would occur from
all that nonsense.
I wrote my first word:
No.
Two letters.
One syllable.
An answer to everything.
No. I don’t want to share my chocolate pudding.
No. I can’t be patient. No. I won’t take a shower.
Versatile, powerful, intense.
In kindergarten, Miss Vargas
told me my favorite word
was impolite.
But I really didn’t want to share my chocolate pudding.
And I didn’t want to go to Alexa’s birthday.
I didn’t want to wear pink.
I didn’t like Mike.
I didn’t want to go to Prom with him.
I didn’t want to kiss him.
But I did anyway.
Miss Vargas should be
proud because I haven’t
disappointed anyone since kindergarten,
only myself.
2️⃣ This Land
Feels like a big empty
parking lot.
Five blinking light poles and
eight good ones.
The overwhelmingly white light
reflects my loneliness.
It’s just me and the song of my old civics’ engine.
An abandoned gas station.
A cigarette by the dumpster of a Japanese restaurant.
A frozen meal served on a tray.
Microwaved, but still cold in the middle.
A reclining chair with a plasma TV at night.
A motel right by with a half-lit sign advertising the $20 night.
The 20 bucks spent to sleep with another guy who’s pathetic, as am I.
3️⃣ Senators and Blessings
She wanted the weight of
this blessing to leave her body.
She thought about taking pills or
slipping wire in due to her disgust.
Pulling her down was the occupancy of
this curse, or blessing or whatever these
bulb head senators who barely know
the alphabet would call it. A gift?
From God?
Well, she thought God would have
been more courteous. He wouldn’t have
sent that dirty man as his delivery-guy.
She didn’t ask for this gift, yet
she was told to remain thankful.
But how could she?
A baby is no gift for a woman
who had just spread her wings.
Now the twilight scud still reminds
her of that dirty man’s unzipped pants.
But somehow, she remains golden.
Singing along other sparrows.
Ensuring their story is heard.
4️⃣ First a Wave, Now a Rock
You met me through
ten numbers I wrote
on the merchant bill.
When I danced
back and forth
like the sea.
One, Two, Three.
Going with what
the wind had planned.
When sunsets seemed
infinite and swimmers
like great companions.
When discovering new lands
and moving my cursive
body kept me clear.
You trapped me in your net.
A fisherman.
My fluent body transformed
into something rigid.
A rock.
You watched me sink.
No dance.
I could only see the
currents pass me by.
Regretting.
Wishing I had never
written those ten numbers
on the merchant bill.
5️⃣ Myself With You
Every morning when you kiss me goodbye
not in the lips but close, and walk out the door
I look for myself.
In the mirror. In my closet.
In shear and delicate clothes that
hint at my curves and dress me with confidence.
Then I light a candle. Sometimes two.
And I draw circles around the flames.
Swirling. Feeling the touch of my own skin.
Not as hot as the melting wax but close.
When you walk out the door, I look for myself
behind the shower curtain during a 2-hour bath.
With water covering most of my body,
showing just enough.
I look for myself in the pantry with an indulgent meal.
Chocolate crepes and strawberries, perhaps.
When the clock hits six,
I look for myself under the white sheets.
By ten, I realize the piece of myself I’m looking for
left in the morning. I’m just waiting for it to come back.