Dust hangs in my rooms

Summer stirs outside my doors

Letters unopened

Coffee and beer chill

The day gone, it’s not yet noon

Cats nap in the hall

I wear my sweatpants

I should be invisible

Birds will sing outside

My name is waiting

My hair growing too slowly

Windows collect dust

Wake up and begin

One chore at a time not done

Clean something or draw

Wait for tommorrow

Today is not over yet

I do what I want.



In your apartment,

I saw the places we were,

Saw the things you use,

Where you hit the wall,

Where I became like plaster,

The dust of our rage,

I pressed my fingers,

Into the damaged places,

Into the soft crush,

This could be over,

If you would just let me be,

Stay out of my life,

You keep calling me,

Now your plaster is cracking,

You tell our friends lies,

You almost broke me,

Living well is not enough,

Revenge is a dish,

You would never know,

Your toothbrush in the toilet

My piss in the bowl.


For Natalie

I wrote these after my mom handed me an old notebook that belonged to my little sister when she was a kid and we found that the pages had been torn out. She was about to get married, and the title seemed so perfect.

I found your notebook,

Your child’s hand scrawled a title,

Your name underneith.

A hard bound notebook,

Read: “I laughed, I cried, I loved”

Etched in crayola,

You tore the words out,

Inside the pages are gone,

Twenty or so lost,

The title says it,

You were too young for a memoir,

Really, you still are,

Take back your notebook,

This time don’t tear the pages,

Write a love story.