SOME DAYS, I AM A TREE

I drew the constellations on my arms and hoped that you could give them a name

I am a dusty floor

In an abandoned house

Walk through these empty halls of mine

I am a dusty floor

Hoping to be a furnace

Becoming mothballs even as I breathe

I am a holey sweater

And I wonder if I could ever be the divine that you see in the stars

You are well-worn stairs

And I walk over you as I grow up

Up

Up

You are Peter Pan

I am a lost boy

Looking for the home I grew up in

The one with the maple trees out front

So big they’re just begging you to dance

Dance with me

In a room covered in dust

Dance with me

I wanted you to be the wooden floors that I covered

But you were a bird

And you wanted to teach me how to fly

Instead of falling

Though we both know that they’re almost the same

Except with flying you forget to hit the ground

And I think

Around you, I could forget that much

I am an old notebook

Written in pencil

Hoping these pages will grow into a tree

So big it’s branches are just begging you to dance

But these words keep fading and I’m forgetting the instructions

Of how to make things grow

Some days, I feel so segmented

You could lay the floors with all my parts

And our feet will wear them down in the same old patterns

But I still think it’s the most beautiful way to grow old.

I am the melody to that song we’ve all head a thousand times

But still sing along

I am Gracelands

Hips swinging like those maple trees in summer storms

Flying through the wind like the stars fly through space

I am Gracelands

I’m just begging you to dance

NO ONE IS LEAVING THIS PARTY UNTIL THEY KISS A BOY

We were all wearing party hats,

Fingers stained with cigarette smoke and cheap wine

And I wanted to live in a way that made me feel alive.

Sometimes, all I want to do is chew on your shoulder

It is made of cinnamon

And cloves

And ginger

And probably none of those things,

But your heart is golden.

I have nickel feet

As we walk home, arms linked

The four of us through half-lit streets

We become fruit bats, “straight to bed, no snacks”

But first, the highlights

Sitting under a table with a boy,

Slow dancing in a smoke filled room

Kissing a wolverine-boy

The sparkler bomb that burnt my fingers

And the dogs that chased us back inside

These dogs are chasing me across my skin

They pull you along

I am the snow plains, and some days

I fall so heavy you can write your name onto me

Wave your arms and create angels

We sit on the floor of the kitchen

“Not straight to bed, and all the snacks”

Those angels you drew, they sing to me

About all the things that make me happy

Like socks and rainy days and wasps nests and balloons

And you

You make me happy

And these angels find songs for all these things

And remind me what it’s like to write with joy.

( s c h o o l c h i l d r e n ) L E S S O N S p t . 1

Because I know too much of leaving

Lessons struck across fingers

I became a slate board; you wrote on me

All the things I wish I never learned

And still, these lessons never get any easier.

I feel too much and these

Moments and places, they stick to my skin

Like a spot I can never out

Damned spot, out

If I could, I would wash you clean of me

With perfume and hair and tears

And leave you like that

But the only valuable thing I have left is my cat

And he is no longer with me.

I don’t know how to grow up

So I make paper stars

And look for god in them, hoping that

Like the night sky

He is too big for me to find

And I am too small.

I am too small.

And when I was small, I could never

Understand the ways my heart pushes people away

While loving them too greatly.

I am here to be counted

I lay my bones on the counter across from you

What can I get for this much?

You give me

Three snakes and a sherbet for my soul

I wish I could live without abandon

But the bruises on my skin teach me too much of caution

I falter

Spitting words and fumbling fragments

Of all the broken sentiments you wish you couldn’t hear

I never wanted to be a burden

The arc you shouldered whilst crossing the Jordan

The sacred box that sucks you into the earth

If you look too closely.

I am manna and whine

Fell out from the sky while you were sleeping

You ate too much and fell too quickly.

I want to be the word “sorry”

As you look to a wooden staff in the sand.

I want to be all the apologies of a million people

Instead, I am the snake

Biting into your flesh, drawing blood

Where I should have drawn poetry

And I am sorry.

Sorry.

I never know when to say it

For all the ways my heart thunders when you’re around

I am a tempest

And this terrifies you

I am a tempest and this skin is an ocean

And the smoke in my lungs is a sand storm

I’m sorry if I blinded you

If these hands that fold over yours burn too hot

If these questions I’ve become are too much for you to answer

I never meant to be the river

Of holy water that you couldn’t drink of

Without learning too much of sin.