Me Time

Susan is scrolling
Sitting in her SUV
Exhaust plumes behind
Straw on lips, iced latte sips
Johnny’s at his hobby now

Double tapped heart
Conceals the smiling faces
Friends she once loved
Seem so happy and fulfilled
“When is the last time we spoke?”

Someone else likes what you shared
Yes, Validation
Attention or affection?
Desperate cravings, fill the void

scheduled, she does it all
She’s had it all
Hard work, dusty résumé
Two point five kids and a dog

Mansion, two million
Recently renovated
Kept clean by Maria
Quiet, paid: she’s just like fam’ly
All these years, hardly know her

Rear view mirror shows
Daughter, a spitting image
Mimicking mommy
Phone in hand, shoulders hunched
Consuming and coveting

Advertiser’s dream
Bottomless pit of desires
Disposable cash
Targeted ads know them well
Can’t resist another good deal

Johnny’s almost done
He’s gotten entitled, rude
That’s normal, though. Right?
Shuts himself up in his room
What is he doing in there?

The sweet boy he was
Now a distant memory
X-box Live mean kid
Expletives and racial slurs
His hugs were so warm

Where’s Susan’s mister?
At the office late again
Let’s pick up dinner
Plastic containers for all
It’s so easy, we’re busy

Busy, so busy
Unpaid labor, kid taxi
We need volunteers
PTA, Church, Baseball snacks
Room mom, binge watch a rom-com

Doesn’t want to think
About the obligations
This is her me time
Turn it all off for a while
Scrolling, searching. What’s missing?

Cleansing Ritual

Suspended in fluid
amniotic wetness
this oversized 80’s bathtub
a just-right womb

nose above water
breath gently rippling
window light reflection
twenty-four bubbles
no larger than a dime
unperturbed since creation


retrograde flowing
lesions growing

this disease
this dis-ease
this is ease

in this cocoon
the fire burns
life resurrects

indulgent ingredients
velvet + silk mouthfuls
slowly seep in
gently closed lips

release dis-ease
relinquish ease

this oversized 80’s bathtub
fits far more than me
little ol’ me
gallons used


Poem: As Seen on TV

I was dismayed to learn of Bob Saget’s passing. I grew up fatherless and his role as Danny Tanner on Full House was important: it showed single parenthood as “normal” and nothing to be ashamed of. For thirty minute segments, he stepped in as a positive father figure where I had none. This feeling was so engrained in me that the first time my husband sat down with our oldest son when he was upset to have a heart-to-heart my first thought was, “Huh, like Danny Tanner,” and my second was, “Oh, like a dad.”

In November 2019, I was processing my childhood traumas and the complicated relationship I have with my parents when I wrote a poem that referenced this. I figured now is as good of a time as ever to share it with others.

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The Epilogue

I am a storyteller, 
through and through
A childhood defined by
Long afternoons spent around
a kitchen table

A bellowing laugh
Between sips of sweet tea
Faded fast-food mugs
In topographical hands
Mountains, valleys, creases
a story of their own.
Age and wisdom
To have both
A story in itself

My own stories
Before I could
Lines and curves
Connected on a page
Before I could connect
A written story to my own

Once upon a time
A parental loss
A sick child
Left to fend,
to fight battles
Illness and Ill will
A tale of
defiance and defeat

A tale of force
Into my story
Into my body
An ink spill
Permeating the pages
A did
cannot be undone

A mystery
of madness, mania
A page turner,
the answer
Escaping on the breeze
of your exhale

An epoch of war
disguised as romance
An era of fear
disguised as family
An age of harm
disguised as home

The reveal
The rise
The run for your life
The strengthening
The escape

The heartache of another
More painful than my own
History repeats itself
Every fairy tale
Begins with tragedy

The hero’s journey
mountains to climb
Led to literal
Landscapes of grandeur

The epilogue is
in technicolor
shades of a
post-storm sunrise
Illuminating a new day

Houston, EX

Late last night, I got back from a nine day visit to my hometown, Houston and birthplace Corpus Christi, Texas. Last time I visited was during the 2017 Houston Half Marathon, and so much has happened within me since. Because this was the first time visiting since I’ve felt settled here in Connecticut, I was able to feel all of the tough feelings associated with it.

I wrote this poem (my first since high school, maybe?) throughout the trip and wrapped it up before takeoff. Enjoy.

Houston, EX

I flew back
into your arms
ten-lane highways
open and wide
Then was grasped
bumper-to-bumper tight


Continue reading “Houston, EX”