On the Eve

serpent at My ankles, always
And nighttime evermore
“She should have known better,” they’ll say about Me
She, Me and the similar others
significant others who also ought
Now nonetheless wise to the slither

girl genius

She would seem simple
She would wear gingham
Carolina in her blood
Straight talk and backbone

Not a chance she’d want curls

I’m not sure if she’d laugh
But her eyes’d have a smile 
And her voice’d have a lilt
When she’d call kindness home

her own poem

He was always his own
On loan
And less of a rock than a stone

She these reasons unknown
Bemoaned
Existing on scraps and on bones

Now with learned heart grown
Wounds sewn
She lives in the no-holds-barred zone

Uneven

Everything. The shiny,
The hot, the wishing for warmth
And that pilot’s still circling

Not caring for landing field light 
Or the heat of home afterall 
But circling 

Higher and away
As if captaining a star flight
Upon which I can only draft