Minutiae of the Day

There are dishes to be done and beds to be made,

Clean laundry to fold and educational games to be played,

Pointless emails to answer and dripping noses to wipe,

And of course, now we have a busted pipe.


“Just fill out this form,” the bank teller will say,

“Welcome to the minutiae of the day”.


There are shoelaces to be bought and dry cleaning to pick up,

Pets to be fed and kid, please empty your cup.

There’s milk to be bought and bills to be paid.

And look, the dog’s collar is a little too frayed.


“It is what it is,” the old and broken people say,

“Welcome to the minutiae of the day”.


You look around at your mess of a life

That never seems bad but is somehow always full of strife

And remember that it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

We wished for this time during one we didn’t know we would miss.


Remember when we experienced a time

That we could play and not worry about the rate of local crime?

When dinner would be made and there were books to be read?

When our worries were small, like what had Ashley said?!


Now there are reading logs to fill out and calories to count

Your marriage is suffering, because of you, no doubt.

You think of everything that STILL needs to be done

And realize your life isn’t much fun.


But there is a toilet that needs cleaning and ten missing socks

You need a new key for that pesky third lock

That is only installed because of the neighborhood crime

Which would you surely help fight if you only had the time.


But the minutiae of the day that bears on our heads,

Seems to tear our mental sanity to shreds

It is pointless and irritating and seemingly for naught.

Are we just doing what we’ve always been taught


To keep everything so and not let anything slide?

What if we let go and just went along for the ride?

Fuck all the dishes and laundry and bills.

Isn’t this better than eventually abusing the pills?


But then dinner isn’t made and the kids’ faces are dirty

You need to check the mail and crap, your sister is turning 30.

There’s vomit on the carpet and you need new shampoo

There’s so much you can’t ignore, so much you have to do.


“I guess this is life,” you inevitably say,

“Welcome to the minutiae of the day”

Tui Magnificum Loci

Prisoner in the moment, forced into your head. You have no other purpose; you just do what they said

To sit in this place, with people all around; can you not fight back? Can you not make a sound?

Listen to your words; handle them well. Don’t let your anxiety grow, convince yourself to quell

All of your thoughts with the crowd gathered round, while you sit in that chair and not make a sound.

Remind yourself that there is a place they cannot reach; with magic abound and no limits to speech.

Your mind is a palace full of treasures unearthed, so sit back in your chair and giggle with mirth.

They can’t tell you what to think or stop your mind from wandering; so live your life like a magician sauntering.

You have so much to build in this palace of yours; so stack up the walls and begin the grand tours.

Take peeks through the doorways you never knew existed; remember the things you properly insisted

Be forgotten with time and buried with the oddities; remember your intelligence is quite a great commodity.

Treat your imagination with care and let it flourish; otherwise you might end up a tad boorish

Like the ones with their gags held tightly in their hands, preventing great talk from traveling throughout the lands.

Embrace the crowd within your own head and regale them in the things you’d rather left unsaid.

“For no one out there gives a damn about your elegantly roughened thoughts, Madame.”

When they tell you to hush with their voices of judgment, remind them that forced silence is repugnant.

So when you sit in your chair with that crowd gathered round, trying so hard to force out a sound,

Remember that you are a creator, my dear, and go forth to build palaces of words without fear.

Into A Grey Sky Morning

Shifting sleepily towards consciousness, desperately hanging onto the heavy fog, I climb upwards towards the brightness that forces itself to be felt.

As I begin to stir, my mind becomes aware of the touch of the sheets, laying lightly on my skin.

The warmth of him radiates through the space between our bodies. No words are spoken, no signals are exchanged. With eyes clasped shut, his arms envelope me tightly.

As I start to turn, his arms release me sharply and I feel their void. They hover over my moving body, patiently waiting. I can sense their desperate desire, awaiting my quiet.

The small distance in our bodies is filled with strands of humming connections, the electricity between us moving magnetically, conveying our locations to the other pole.

Without touching, without seeing, he knows where I will move, feeling the pull of our vibrating magnetism, and he flows around me, sliding perfectly to rest, lightly enveloping my new location.

His movements around me are not confined to physical touch, but transpose to every shift of my life, purpose, and sense of self. Ever fluid, ever charged, ever connected, the fog is dispelled.

The Table

Such a simple movement that makes us feel as though we are connected.

We move fluidly; reading each other’s bodies in silence as we work.

Comfortable understanding wraps around us and it is as though we are dancing.

You watch my hands lift; I make sure to avoid your feet.


As we move, do you feel the energy flowing between us?

Our eyes do not meet; I make sure not to glance at you for fear of what I will see.

You’ve been clear in your decision; I do not agree.

Feel this? Feel how easily we settle into a rhythm of tandem acceptance?


Taciturn desire to clasp each other grows and swells.

It fills the area between us and I grow hot with the knowledge of what we both want.

Lifting and stepping, holding and moving, your hands work together with mine.


Our breath starts to labor with the weight of what we hold between us.

Is that a metaphor for our emotional burden and restraint?


Calmly, we set the table down and feel the moment end.

We each take a deep breath and glance at each other.

I see your eyes flash and know that I wasn’t imagining the chemistry of our silent interaction.

It was so simple and so deep that I yearned to place my hands on the table and lean over it,

And beg you once more to rethink, to reconsider, to let go of your fear and join me.


We turn away from each other, synonymous with our everyday actions.






The Tear

The tear held the past four years within its glassy dome. Its surface was unbroken and smooth, sliding down my cheek, leaving a shiny track that shone and reflected the sky above that was invisible to my closed eyes. It was a jewel of defeat, of acceptance, of pain that could be wiped from my face but worn in eternity.

Everything we had built together resided within that tear, all of the late night talks and plans of the future as we lay in each other’s arms. How can something so small contain everything that we were supposed to be?

As the tear traveled further down my cheek, I replayed our time together in a fast reel of laughter and growth and happiness. The reel skipped the fights and dull moments that you claimed caused our demise. I focused the reel on your face when I asked you to marry me, I focused it on the moans you gave when my hands were on your body, I focused on your smile.

The tear grew cold as it reached my neck. I reviled in the discomfort I felt from the tear and refused to wipe it away. There was nothing more to feel but that cold and overwhelming defeat. Wiping it away would relegate me to an emotionless existence that didn’t have you.

Just one tear. Just one.

I reached up and wiped it away.

Fire and Hate

My heart is cracked and I am breathless trying to hold the pieces together, scrambling to pick them up as they fall to the ground and shatter. I miss your voice, your touch, your smile. Your energy filled the rooms within my soul, and now the life that you gave has been sucked from me as a fire sucks oxygen from the air so that it can grow in ferocity. I’m suffocating in the flames of your absence and I can’t breathe without you.

Your advice and view of the world was so unique to my young mind. Your strangeness made me feel normal. Your love made me feel wanted. Your simplicity made me feel calm. Our talks of divinity, of love, of possibilities together, all building a world and a future of wholeness; That world was shattered when I discovered your lies.

Except not shattered. The world still existed because it resided in my soul, the rooms of my soul that you filled. But that world, my world, is no longer bright and happy, with growth and life. The world within me is blackened and dying without the oxygen that your flames stole. Everywhere I turn is a shattered piece of a promise you had made to me, to us. Every word exchanged, every whisper of love, it was a lie that you were willing to tell.

How can someone willingly lie to someone they love? How can it not eat at their soul? It eats at mine as I lie that I am okay to those whom I love. I will never be okay. You changed me, and not for the better. I became cynical, the epitome of a weeping figure that stands on the cliffs before jumping. You were the one, and I never truly knew you. I would’ve jumped for you, but I would’ve jumped for someone that didn’t think I was worth telling the truth.

You. You deserve nothing in life because you had everything and you spat on it. Whether with her or me, you ruined that everything. You suffocated two women with multiple acts of lying and deceit over multiple years. I wonder if she has realized that she can’t breathe yet.

Let it go, people say. Just let it go. I guess it is easy for people to say to walk away without realizing what you stole. I did walk away, thank god, although I think of you with every move I make. I was able to leave, without the ability to breathe. And you told me to keep it together. Over five years of friendship, of courtship, of compromise and love…you saw my heart break and you looked at me in pity and then anger as you walked away, back to her, the one you kept from me for four years.

You are small, in body, mind, and spirit. I wish the cancer had taken you before you managed to ruin what we had.

Anchors Don’t Need Air

Spiraling down, faster and faster,
I’m unable to keep myself focused.
Can you stay steady?

Bucking, harder and harder,
I’m trying to throw you.
Can you hang on?

I’d rather drown by your hands than use my own;
So hold me down.
Be my anchor.

Stay firm. Stay calm.
Fend off my dragons as yours claw at your back;
They will see your quiet calm and run.

Stand on your tippy toes;
Hold me above water while you struggle to stand.
You gasp for air as I push you back down.

I don’t care. I’ll be alive,
standing on the bodies
as they stack high.
Of those who tried
To stay steady,
To hang on,
To hold me down,
To hold me up,
But gave way,

Anchors don’t need air.