Xanadu
 

We gather underneath tittering tin, feet on Earth,  During day having labored, as all of Her  beasts do. Radiant ray gives way to beating uproar– hard, solid souls of ice hammering Her  skin like a drum. Horses heave sighs, gartered girths loose, halter and horn and crownpiece and cantle,  drinking rain and deflecting day’s wayward ice. Breeching, boot, and breastplate having taken refuge in the barn, martingales cast carefully away as our own browbands and bolos dutifully do

I stand on two feet, the ground marries my soles,  Wings, I do not have, and yet, The Sky I belong to.  I outstretch my arms, the breeze blankets me, And though moles outscore me in digging,  The Earth I belong to.  Each particle, organism, being, in its place, where it should be,  Shuffling awkwardly, do they know their worth? Yet,  Each is impermanent. I stand, I outstretch, But most outstandingly, I am not stationary,  As long as I move, I am in my place, shifting until I

In my culture G-d is respected  overwhelmingly—we are to spell its name with an indicative hyphen. Nothing else respected split Nothing else split respected. Paths diverged: confusing, dividing, endlessly revitalizes, stimulates, revivifies. I am brought to them repeatedly. Left— Paved pathway, the dragging of my shoes emit ever peaceful scrapes that can heal every pitiful scar. Prickly pine trees with eroding bark picked by the children who chose this path. This peace helps

I want to be tucked in at night, in a room where the bugs don ́t bite. A room as bright as laughter and joy, a place where anyone is allowed in. My sanctuary, my cocoon, my burrow. What a dream. Why am I here? Why am I stuck living up to your expectations Why am I silent? I'm suffocating in this seclusion of a room. The room you take me to, a place where I can ́t escape your grasp. Full of paintings of mixed feelings, whether I should love you or resent you. The peeling of th

At first, I felt like a random on the floor, Lost in the echo of cheers and score. But then–one pass, one laugh, one call– And I wasn’t alone at all. The court became my place of calm, Where every serve settled my storm still. The ball beats like a heart in my hands, Each rally reminds me–I belong where I stand. Bump, breathe, believe, we say, Moving as one in the rush of play. And in that rhythm, I finally see,  Volleyball isn't just a game– It's a home to me.

My skin prickles from the  freezing chill of refrigerated air,  deafening sounds of skates carving  up the ice fills my ears.  The slap of the puck, the crash of the boards  quiets the chaos of my mind.  This is my happy place.  Tainted by angry shouts from  overzealous parents, held back by expectations,  ruled by unnecessary politics. Still—beneath the buzzing lights,  I find comfort in the scrape of my blades, in the sweat that permeates my gloves,  in my teammates’ laught

I still remember when you were just another face, Just another grain of sand,  In the desert of my life; Filled only with barren vegetation,  And the occasional sandstorm, That would bring long periods of drought.  But you ended up being an oasis;  Your presence wasn’t just refreshing,  It was validating. I could see myself in the reflection your spring,  And feel affirmed; As if who I was, How I felt, And what I wanted, Was enough. No matter how many times I wandered the des

The jacket, with every leather scratch and frayed stitch, strangled my body like a psych ward patient. Fighting every urge to rip the pieces of chrome-tanned hyde that's slowly suffocating me. Concealed from the outside, the epicenter of my life remains unseen, hidden by this grotesque, bulky, ill -fitted outerwear. Jacketed with embarrassment, coated with mortification, stitched together with the remains of a harmless creature. The organic, skinned animal covers what is trul

Retrieved from the closet once more, another problem I must stabilize. Bones creak and muscles moan with pain, each step more taxing than the last. I am carefully slipped on, hugging the heel and ball, attempting to bring some — if any — relief. My boning has already stretched far past its limits, my shape slowly distorting. I still hear groans and grunts echoing — problems which I cannot resolve. Yet I still hold on, for that is my essence. My purpose. To piece together a sh

Caramelized, comforting chocolate hits The molar. It's nice and new. The tooth And the glucose have made a bond. I am here but with what purpose. You are sweet yet I am spiteful.  You brought me to life just to be Covered with a crown, probed with hard metal.  As I worsen, the taste of blood is all I know.  When will you stop? Drills, forceps, plucking parts of my presence,  Erasing me–for good.