90/365 : the opposite of dissociation

convince the tortured crevices
of my maniacal memories
to loosen and start anew

turn me robin's egg ribbon
laced through innocent locks
in the sunlight
of your high class loft

tie me up in honest love
child laughter, pitter patter play
say, whatever you want is 
what i want, baby
as you pounce on me, hungry
and harmless

89/365 : the smell of fear

my pixilated negative
balancing on nothing
but luck and the
anxious hot plastic hum
of survival running on plugs

88/365 : the smell of safety

my father's change jar
and my tiny hands
reaching in
for the quarters
that never ever run out

87/365 : how i burned burned burned in the rain

his phone number
and name--

a scribble of destiny
inside a match book
inside my pocket
as i walked
down to the creek
burned my dreams
wet my hair
stared into a cloudy sky
watched it cry
cleanse
clean me
of what i thought i needed

86/365 : there must be a god

there's a bruise around your ass, he says
just at the bottom of your tailbone

it happened three months ago, she says
just as i decided to leave home

he plays harmonica on the hole of her brokenness
she laughs and kiss-tugs the sheets inside her fists

he improvs piano

she moans and lets go, says,

pound the notes, honey

i'm ready to dance

85/365 : lies

trauma lies
at the base of my
spine
sputtering
bad
bad
bad
girl

84/365 : your compass is yours and yours alone

quiet now
quit your bocking
let your body stack sharp and directional
lips spitting yes like an arrow-head
headed home

no one needs to know why god waits for you in texas

no one needs to know a thing