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.