claire can't see me.

a mom who is cooler in words than in life.

Archive for love

free write: yellow brick road girl.

ease on down, mister, & let me lie an explanation
in the psalm of your hands
because religiously i am lost
but here in our chapel i am holy Married
to the sweet hymn of our collective misguidance
you the tin man
crumpled under the weight of your shoulders
& me, the wizard disguised as Dorthy
hidden, yet unassuming
i am the yellow brick road
golden with good intentions
& merriment
& no clear direction as to how i got this far
from a proper introduction
one where i don’t whisper crucial facts
or send smoke signals that resemble heart shaped clouds
you don’t know me aloud
with you i neither roar nor wail
i ease
i ease
i ease
on down the road, paved & golden
with no clear direction
as to where i’m leading you next.


i’m going back over the draft titles of posts that i meant to write and decided that this would make go practice for me. please note this is not meant to be good. just an excercise to getting back into the swing of words.

he’s not a god.

& yet & still & til this day
my memory bends & breaks
at his feet
my body weeps
folded over into an origami bird
flightless beauty of manipulation
turned art
that easily rips apart
i am devout to disaster.

dear lawd

i forgive u
& i don’t know if gawds can be forgiven
but zora said that we fashion gawds in our own image
& i know how guilt ridden i can be
so, i forgive you for taking my momma
& i understand you wanted good company.

don’t go too far

one day they’ll leave
they’ll sneak their life in a bookbag
or let sum boy/girl borrow it
they’ll ration my portion of it
to minute replies of “everything’s fine”
when i ask to be invited into their day
they’ll assign me as spectator
& store the remaining truths in their locker at school
i know that one day
they’ll question my relevance
&  snicker over their bare shoulders going out the door
bubble gum flavored breath will blow across the threshold
when i talk
i know they won’t be able to hear me over the speakers in their mind
bumping someone’s advice that’s easier to dance to then my complicated jazz
& i’ll have to rifle through their thoughts to find evidence to prove our once upon a time friendship
i know it will all come to soon
they’ll be ready to leave before i’m ready to let go
but i hope i can convince them to not go too far.

its not a love story

when i said goodbye
he searched my eyes for reason
&  then he realized
my pupils were only pools of mud
& not amber
my face was a collection of mismatched memories
& not a horizon of stars
my name was not a melody of syllables
but rather unrhymatic complications to tongues.

& he no longer needed an answer
he could see  it himself
we were not a love story
just a plot twist.

dinner time tales

amiia: jordan was fighting again today, mommy.
me: what happened?
amiia: well he was yelling at parker. he was yelling “YOU LYIN ME”
me: what?
amiia: yeah, he kept screaming out “YOU LYIN ME”
me: hmm..
amiia: i didn’t jump in their business but i did whisper to myself.
me: what did you say?
amiia: *with her pointer finger extended upwards* fragment sentence.

yep, i’ll keep her!

because i do.

you can’t tell me differently. i just know that i am married to the greatest person ever born. its nearly been 10 years & still the sound of his keys in the door send butterflies racing through my entire nervous system. he is it. the reason for kisses. & i’m sure this is just the poet in me that feels this but, but i just know that i was born to love him. a tarrot card reader told me that i married my soulmate.

but, does he get on my damn nerves? of course!

i’ve gotten into a lot of discussions about love with married friends. & being that i tend to be the youngest in my group, i’m always seen as niave for feeling this way. i told one person that i loved him more than i loved myself because i had full confidence that he was doing the same. her smirk was so telling. in that moment she wished me failure just to prove her bitterness was relevant. & i don’t mean bitter in an evil way. but in a way that you want to know the technique behind the magic to reassure yourself that magic is not real. because if magic was real, it would unravel that which you’ve come to know, believe, & live your life according to.

i’m just saying….i like the youth of my love. when the world is too realistic & the people are all too logical…i can come home to my fairytale. my magic.

i’m not looking for smoke & mirrors. just enjoying the show.