The Silver ChildFather bore me of the bellowsWoke me by night to beat meStroke by strokeDrew a fireBeat meTurned me overBeat againAnd father told me I was incompleteHe took me outsideThe wind didn't whistle like I thought it wouldThe birds didn't singNo rain weeping a rat-a-tat rallyNo crickets pulling their bowsFather bathed meFather drowned meAnd father told me I was the silver childFather hammered out the dentsLonely twangs belted against an angry anvilFather sheathed me in goldPretended I was pureThe first son not to shatterThe first son not to be soldAnd father told me I was complete
Pencil SkirtI am a pencil skirt A pinstriped business card on bronze stilettos.I decline1. The choker at my neck2. Ribbons to dress my mane3. Colored glass for my earsIn favor of1. A bonus at my desk2. Plaques to dress my wall3. A trinket for my shipyardI sleep beside the bleached bones of my suitors.The radiator rattle protects my four-digit wagesFrom girlish distractions -From famished sighs wrestled out by tired fingers.
It's Not You, It's MeA date and time was scrawled in red and circled a hundred times.January 5, 2013.10:00 P.M.Today was the day. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. It's a miracle I could even wait. By the time I finally returned to reality, my watch taunted me: 9:58 P.M.9:59.10:00. I held my breath and fingered a chip in the center of the face of my watch.10:01.10:02.I felt someone behind me."You're late."Although his watch, like mine, was lined with silver and sported cracks that spidered from a chip in the center, his displayed a different time."You were four years late," he announced. "That's how long it took you.""So I did it. I inve