little poems

Hello hello, I’m posting a poem here because my brain has completely exploded from the world of submitting, and to welcome those of you who have journeyed here from my TikTok or otherwise. I wanted to share some work with you, yes, you, who have so graciously visited the website that I pay too much money to keep in existence and also don’t really know how to use.

Under heavy inspiration from Ross Gay, my challenge for this poem was to refrain from any editing, meaning it was born in my notes app and it will most likely die here. This one is about trying to find joy when I want to hurt myself. It’s been difficult for me to write lately, and yet it always feels like something I must do. Lorna Goodison calls poetry a tyrant. Thank you for hearing my words. You all are very kind.

Cracked Dice

I am trying to climb
over the snowbanks but all
the change keeps falling

out of my pockets. I have to
run back and collect it all
and I keep slipping and the 

snow starts again, it always
starts again when I walk
so I walk until I find

a turquoise pack of Newports
still warm in their cellophane.
I walk until I find a red die 

in the pavement crack, 
its face between two and three,
and I smile, think I should

call a poem that. When I reach
the doldrums, I crush
milk thistle in my fist

until pink powder
coats the chasms of my 
palms. I wait for it to work.

It is only then that I learn 
that some things can
only reflect, like how sunlight 
cannot pass through ash.

I used to look up and expect
someone to be listening.
When I looked up 
I saw a murmuration