Poems

I was searching through my mom's computer (which I had when I was still in school) the other weekend and found these few poems that I wrote my last semester. I don't fancy myself much of a poet but these are a few that I liked and thought had potential. I should warn you: I am apparently incapable of writing happy poems, so they're pretty dark. Any contructive criticism is welcome.


The Bride

She sits in the grass,
Her horse standing beside
Her, leather reins curled
Around her fingers.
She is getting married

Tomorrow. Two families crowding
Her parents back yard. Two mothers
Watch their children hold hands
in front of the tree, whispering
Vows. She imagines

Herself as mother, baker, planner.
Getting the kids ready
And off to school, planning
Dinners and summer drives
To the lake, Dad at the wheel,
Hollering, quiet down.

She stares out at the sky,
Her head resting on the horse’s
Leg, hands on her knees.
She stares across the field.
In ten years it will be a highway
And her horse will be dead.


Last Impressions

All hospitals are sterile,
with long hallways putrid
from antiseptic spray and urine.
Inside I try not to look
at the string of beds
filled with strangers, parked
like rusted cars from a rotting
coaster. My eyes connect
with the speckled floor and Dad
leads me to her bed. My stomach,
already nauseous, slowly turns
like a roller-coaster inching up
the first hill. I look at her feet
first. Toes peek through the edge
of a white blanket. I have an
urge to paint over the coral
polish that has began to chip
and fade. She would have
wanted them to be finished. Presentable.
a tube rests, where fake teeth
should be, helping her to breathe.
Her doctor says, patients become addicted
to respirators. I watch the machine
pump up and down. Pictures
of her life drinking and smoking
linger in my head.
I feel hot. The coaster
has reached the curve and is ready
to dive. Things get dark,
my hearing is turned down,
I sink into the floor. It is quiet.
Dad carries me
to the waiting room, my eyes refocus.
Fluorescent lights bounce
off white walls. He leaves me
on a worn green chair and I am
not allowed back in.


A Daughter's Tale

Remember the night when you
nearly snapped my neck?
You stopped, pleading sorry and told me
when you were a boy
you peered through the crack
of the hall closet. You father held the tie,
strangling your mother and slapped
her cheek. You wrap your hands
around my neck, pinching
my skin between your fingers, teaching me
the weight of your hands.
God rules the man, but the man rules
me. A lesson I should have learned
by now. On our wedding night
you bloodied my lip for the first time, dripping
red spots on a white satin dress. Accusing me
with your finger, yelling,
each of you carries the burden
of Eve. An idea you learned
from your mother, who watches me
every Christmas, the only one
who knows the burden I carry
and the lesson I might pass
to my own son, who sits
on his grandpa’s lap, tearing
into his presents.