naiad

I am a splash and gurgle, playful like a cool drink and it is all spring and wind through the reeds until you drown in me. I am all ripple, all ribbon hair leaking outward into a halo around my face. Drifting backward while you think I am smiling. And I will tell you to swim a little closer just to see you at the drop off, when the water is past your waist and you did not know the lake ran this deep. I have watched brave men sink like rocks and float like logs, watched them breathe fresh water and surrender. And they have thanked me before the end. You can build river rafts to ride me, can build ships and fleets and navies and try to calm my skin, but I will hurricane swallow you down. I am vast and dark and ancient. And I am not afraid of you.

I Suppose We're Growing Up

and all at once we are older than we realized
turning out the lights before midnight
to get some sleep, because we deserve it now
because we have been staying up all night for ages
and this year has been a hell of a long day

and all at once I find you where you have always been
next to my hand, and your fingers find my palm
and they walk into the space between my knuckles
and your voice is over my head like a crown
you are taking nothing from me

we have wiped our slates and our bloodstreams clean
we have made space in ourselves together
and this is what I will keep in my pocket tomorrow:
the blue darkness and the velvet of you
and your mending hands

Blood Moon

the moon is red tonight
and I am frightened

that I never learned to exhale pain and heal
that I swallowed all my bad memories like baby teeth
and chewed an ulcer through my stomach

and my fingers are still prune-wrinkled
after soaking for years in stagnant water
salted and bitter and rheumatic
and combing my hair still takes hours

I am frightened that mirrors will still burn
holes in me, that I still need to cloak them
in wine-heavy drapes past midnight

that when you try to stoke your breath into my lungs
they will fill with rose paint and I will choke
bleeding thick and poppy-scented
all perfumed panting, panicked

but I have forgotten that I am only
nightmare-locked tonight, and pruned fingers
are only relics of this time last year

and blood moons pass, and I have learned by now
to drop a thread of silver sunlight into my paralysis
and even when the night is scarlet black
even when it is easier to stay asleep

dawn will still break in its time
and I will still be awake by midday