Sunday, June 29, 2014


When the things you love
go all and each to a finger
in your right hand

and I'm left
walking in circles
on the other palm.

I skip the twists
but lose balance
on your fate line

I fall off
while tying the minor broken filaments

and fail to figure out
how exactly
our lives connect.

(Shared with the Real Toads)

Monday, June 23, 2014

A separation

I chase impressions of emptiness
with my eyes closed

and almost forget you're always saying
our uncertain feet

belong to roads
which only cross this time.

Yours and my shadow were close
throughout a slippery year

now I lose sight of you
before I can embrace your shoulders

you forget me
before the dust covers my footsteps.

De olhos fechados
persigo impressões no vazio

e quase esqueço como dizes
que os nossos pés incertos

pertencem a estradas
que só se cruzam nessa época.

Esteve a tua sombra ao lado da minha
por um ano escorregadio

agora afasta-se dos meus olhos
antes que lhe possa abraçar os ombros

paga-me antes que a poeira
me cubra os passos.

Saturday, June 21, 2014


There is a deep sea creature
living the darkest
inside me.

It's regularly seen
with my crocodile in the moat.

Sometimes I can't sleep.
I search the blackness
for the face of the monster

afraid to discover
it has
my eyes

afraid it
devours me
in a single bite.

In a dream the other night
it got so close
I nearly surrendered.

My arms and legs
so tired from the swimming.
My heart so dreadfully weak.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

The birth of secrets

I watch you move
gradually farther
from my eyes.

Nothing prepares me for the winter of

or the silence of
empty days.

Nothing prepares me for the heartlessness
of closing words

or the roughness in your voice
the last time.

I watch you walk away.
In my throat, 
a collection of stories I trust no one else with.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

The things lost

I lose a grandma three months
after coming into the world.
She has me in her arms once.
I'm not taught her name.

I miss a school day in the hospital
to get a reminder stitched on my forehead:
children do not understand their legs well enough
to try and run as fast as leopards.

I lose my first milk tooth.
I throw it on the roof and
make a wish that
never comes true.

I lose a boyfriend to an earthquake in Turkey.
Rescue teams terminate the search.
My heart is never recovered
from under the debris.

I lose control over my mind.
I'm sad too often to know.
I'm prescribed
happiness pills.

I lose my voice for three days
after an argument.
I remain silent for six months.
Speech is compromised for life.

I understand
the things lost
never belonged to me.
I myself do not.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Time lapse

By sunset
he draws a line 
that crosses my chest
it goes from palm to palm - 
this is where we connect: 
below this line
we are alone.

By sunrise
the love I gave him
is not a solid enough home.
he yells,
I cry,
we speak in an alien tone,
we forget each other's skin.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

House of stairs

I had a dream
you lived in Escher's house
and like two kids
playing hide-and-seek,

I searched you
behind doors,
between sky and water,
inside mirrors.

I couldn't find you.
In Escher's living room,
you were another illusion,
my personal impossible.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Not a word

Watching you
bewitch the guests with tricks
learned from forest beasts.

Waiting for your smile to meet mine
between an encounter with a wolf
and the sun among your trees.

Trying to determine
the ways in which a year changed you,
the ways in which a year changed me.

I find a place right below
my fifth rib to stash the thrill of
having you this close,

because I know you flee
at the sense of a maudlin word
and this time, I'd like you to stay.

(Shared with The Real Toads)