just gorge, it’s fine

forget the number associated
with the size of your pants
for a month

don’t worry about things like
calories or fat content or
for god fucking sakes
whether something contains gluten

it’s the holidays,
you perfect, pudgy
little motherfucker

gorge on the homemade
cookies and fudge and
yeah it’s okay to have
christmas dinner with
more than one family

if you’re lucky enough
to have plenty
or even
just one

You are not saintly

i see you
i have always seen you
from the day you were born

that white skin
those eyes that are not
like my own

i see you
white, glowing
like an angel

but you
are not saintly

the crown you wear
is just for show
it’s not made of thorns

you will be no martyr
for goodness
or even
the slightest
bit of authenticity

you go on and
keep glowing

i see you


I’m writing a poem a day on WordPress. If you are enjoying these missives, please consider supporting my work, or even just buy me a cup of coffee to keep me going, it will be much appreciated.



sometimes i think
about hanging
swinging from a rope or
something easier like
a leather belt
and a doorknob
and really leaning in

sometimes i think
about drowning
about being the girl
who walks into the water
with rocks in her pockets
because wouldn’t that
be easier for everyone
maybe almost beautiful

sometimes i think
about car accidents
or the sweet bliss of
a terminal cancer diagnosis

or maybe just
one fucking good reason
besides being a mother
to stay alive

i wait on tenterhooks
and when they say
it gets better
when they say hang on
because they don’t see
these hooks in my back
holding me up
i must turn away and
tune them out
how can you not see
these hooks in my back

how can you not see
that hanging on is
the strongest
most selfless thing
i have ever done

i will walk barefoot in winter

Photo by ME! - Cheney Meaghan

we are
getting closer
to that time of year
it won’t be appropriate
for me to come to you
for comfort

if i do
people will be apt to stare
and maybe even call the police
if my coat looks too heavy
if they think i’m carrying rocks
and not sea glass

but for now
i’ll still go
i won’t make eye contact
with the normal boardwalk strollers
as i kick of my shoes and socks
and step down into the sand

because i just don’t care
what you think anymore

i will walk barefoot
in winter
past the gates suggesting
i keep out
but i won’t keep out
i have never been one
to heed signs or suggestions

because i don’t care anymore
and i know sometimes i need
the sting of broken shells
and rocks and glass and the unlucky
fish hook in my heel
and obviously i need the sting
of the water in the winter

but shh, listen, i’ll tell you
one of my favorite little secrets
to the water, it isn’t winter yet
the water holds in its sun sparkle
the remaining warmth of the months
it was bathed in starfire

i don’t care anymore
i’ll walk barefoot
into the water in winter

it’s only December now
we have
such a long ways to go

Too Late Today

I don’t know what to write today, but I came here anyway with fourteen minutes to spare in the day, because it’s NaBloPoMo, and it’s a thing I do.

But the thing is, I already wrote almost four thousand words on my novel today even though I didn’t want to do that either.

I encouraged my struggling, grumbling homeschooler to do the easy things she felt like she couldn’t do, because among the many things I need to accomplish, I haven’t figured out how to help her instill confidence in herself yet, and really, how could I when I don’t have much of my own?

I have a huge deadline in a day and a half that I don’t know whether I’ll meet, especially if I keep up with all these other obligations I’ve thrown in here and there throughout them, like a dumbass, because I just can’t say no to people, apparently.

And when I’m stressed and crunched for time, I stress eat, ice cream and chocolate and then I think how ridiculous this is, as I committed myself to tracking things with MyFitnessPal again.

Again, again, because it’s always again.

I don’t know what to write because when I left church yesterday, a place that I’ve just recently begun going to and finding comfort, I find out that dozens of people were shot and killed while sitting in their own church, looking for the same kind of peace that I’m starting to think none of us will ever find.

So I’m not very okay, and I don’t know what to write today, but I’m here.

I’m here.