Origin Story

Sometime before you and I were born
Before our continental ancestors were even conceived of

By their mother’s mothers

Who at the time were just little girls in prehistoric pinafores

Way back then

Someone fell in love for the first time

And they learned that that love means down is up

And dark is sharp

And sunrise means the end

In between the scramble of inventing crop rotation

Avoiding the plague

Minding the flock

And skinning rabbits for stew

One pair of eyes kept meeting another over an open fire

And since no one yet worried about particulate matter inhalation

Or the rising cost of premium daycare facilities

The human heart still had time to leap and swoon and twist itself into knots

Over that other pair of eyes

That were watching and waiting and seducing

Fixed on nothing but her

Nothing to click on

Nothing pending a reply

Back then people were just starting to understand the confusion of senses,

That meeting someone, not just anyone

can make you feel like you just breathed for the first time

Like you just sloughed off the amniotic fluid of singledom

You cry out in a gasp of inarticulate virility

And suddenly know

The definition of paradox

The agony of joy
The intimacy of separation 

I knew I was falling in love with you when I didn’t look at my phone
Or even remember I owned one
From the minute I entered your apartment

until the minute I needed Google to get me home

Thoroughly captivated by our interaction

Utterly disinterested in the typically addictive fleeting digital stream

Realizing time after time

you were the only reality I wanted to be mine

In my bones’ marrow

where the secrets of romance are engraved by time into my matter

I felt my myself grow strong in your hands

And I saw all the contraptions and distractions of today grow small

In the presence of something undying and unyielding 

Nothing was ever as beautiful

Not as the way you made me feel

But as the way I wanted to make you feel

Safe like my flock

Hot like my fire

Confused like the body in love

Like down is up

And dark is sharp

Like sundown is a wake-up call

And sunrise means the end

Until next time

And I prayed for a next time

In a time when I had forgotten how to pray

Somewhere awakened in my reptilian brain or in my genetic codex

A woman with strong shoulders and rough hands

was teaching me to feel you like she had felt him

Her love story lurching across millenia to tell me

that this distraction with you is called fate

That seeing the night as the brightest part of day is called passion

That wanting to follow you without knowing your destination is called loyalty

That wanting to give you myself until the bank of my life had a negative balance

Wasn’t just a sign of intense but passing infatuation

It was a rite of passage into the ranks of our progenitors

Who had also forgotten to keep a watch on their phone

Or flock

Or fire

And instead kept watch on each other

Inventing words for new sensations

Whispering prayers about forever into the silence

Writing into their bones the origin story of love

(2018)

Outcome

They always say

“Mom and baby are doing fine!”

just hours after she splits herself open

to pour out bony flesh and writhing soul 

with vesuvian indignity,

bodies baptized incarnadine,

lungs wailing, one for the first time

and one like never before,

trembling, sweating, spilling

primordial fluids across existential thresholds.

Mom and baby are neither fine,

shocked by light and loss and brand new fear,

being ripped apart,

pain enough to maybe kill her,

heartbroken now or eighteen years later,

every unknown in the universe

cradled in her naked shaking arms.

Heedless they hurry

to light the cigars

while blood is still drying

exhaling words like blessing and miracle. 

I think they mean that forgetting it is.

We were all broken by the beginning.

We should take time.

When I turn thirty-five and feel happy one day,

if my mom is still healthy, 

and I’m feeling brave

and the paychecks are steady,

I’ll send out the announcements

on creamy white card stock,

in envelopes stuffed with rose-colored confetti:

“It’s a girl!

66 inches, weight undisclosed.

Mommy and daughter are doing fine.

Today, at least, they’re hanging in there.

As for tomorrow, sorry, no promises.

The doctor declared both of them human.”

Ode to a Night Owl

The other day I killed a night owl with a single shot

It was easy

I just asked it
To help me catch a bitter worm the next morning
And it rolled right over, underbelly revealed
Too soft to handle hard surprises
Too selfish and delicate

To witness harsh sunrises

That was when I let you disappoint me for the final round

Of inconvenience meaning more than our friendship

You know no means no

But so does yes when delivered with a groan

I heard the night owl’s complaint piercingly clear

So mom drove me to the airport instead

And I didn’t I realize it yet

But I was already over you then

While I was losing my father to empty bottles

You were losing me to hollow promises

Of brotherhood and being there

I shouldn’t have to tell you

Calling yourself my last resort

Doesn’t count as showing up

And I’ve got more love on the line

And someone else will always volunteer

To hug me goodbye

If you aren’t feeling up to it

If you can’t get up for it on time

I guess you thought I’d understand

Since it’s how you’ve always been

It’s all cute and quirky until someone’s getting hurt

And needs a ride to save her father’s life

Or maybe just her own

You don’t know that he wasn’t in the van

That I flew home alone

Shattered and still shaking from the threats that he leveled

Gas pedals and sirens and lies that he leverage

And cops that saw through it

And the moment I knew that I couldn’t

You didn’t ask if it all worked out

You let the nights lengthen and that’s how it lasted

And you haven’t changed your password

Or your agenda

Or your lack of compassion

I guess I’m just your history now

I once fought for your trust

While you sat in the background

You didn’t answer the call

When I asked you to stand up

You acted like it wasn’t

The worst two weeks of my life

Like I didn’t need you

Like hell isn’t a place that I could possibly wind up

Like you wouldn’t sweat for a friend who was burning

It was hot in the kitchen and you turned on the TV

Left a pot boiling dry on the stove while you kicked back

And lit another bowl so you could just check out

Remaining calm in a crisis is simple

When you decline it with silence

Guess you got off easy

But definitely early

I thought we had years left in the making

But now I’ll take credit for calling the score

I left the ball in your court and waited to volley

But I set down my racket when the ref finally told me

That you never bothered with picking up yours

I once broke down your walls

Never thought that you could break down my patience

The sheep that broke the collie’s back

Only cried wolf when it truly mattered

Turns out wolves work all hours

And I’m sorry to tell you

That love doesn’t call in sick

When it's not in the mood for taking the morning shift

The flock lost a few members

I don’t think you remember

The love that broke down your walls was a gift

I thought there was something worthwhile to get to

Turns out all these years

It was just an empty pasture

Of unruffled feathers

And the ghost of a wolf-haunted lamb that once grazed there