(2015)
A family trait Massage Is our vice No shame Take what
A fresh faced country girl Who pioneers on her bicycle Catches the eye Of a transplant from Houston Love begins through letters
I’ve known Deep inside All along My value That I matter
Strong hands Hold me down To the bed I say to them I have to go
Manos fuertes No me sueltan De la cama Yo les digo Me tengo que ir
I cannot apologize For writing what I feel inside If it is hard to read It is harder to live I will understand
A joke Lost in Translation You will Never
Itchy It has to come off Nerves Makes me pick His look
Would I rather be A younger me? More productive Stronger Would i have to give up
I would never choose To eat a granola bar Or peanut butter crackers Though I eat them All of the time
Yo te amo Tres palabras Que solucionen todo Para la mujer Tan complicada
I need to tell you How to survive With our disposition It’s okay to cry Maybe
I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface
If food is poetry The flavors The smells Singing in harmony Is poetry food?
Bags full of diapers Cars waiting in line Smell coming from the load Ashamed it was mine He noticed my insulin pump