Poet's Block

It’s stuck in my throat

It refuses to go in, it fails to come out

All it does all day

is ruin the taste of what I eat,

All it does

is flavor the words that I say;

I don’t know what it wants

This poem that needs to leave

But wants to stay.

There are two kinds of happy places in my head

Scene one is in summers

Scene two in the depths of winters

Here I am lying on the sand, near a beach

There I sit, in the fog next to a bonfire

Here, no clothes, just my skin and the wind

There, wrapped around in the arms of someone I love

Here, the sound of waves filling up my senses

There, the calming music of your breath

Here, the scent of water

There, the perfume of your skin

Here, the quiet bursting dance of being independent

There, the joy of never feeling alone again.

How to really break up with someone

You don’t have to say it again and again

Sometimes it doesn't work;

You can try not talking to him for a while

But it’s difficult to forget a face so beautiful;

Try hating him for no reason

But you’ll end up hating yourself;

Try, if you can, to fall in love with someone else

But we all know the Ross/ Russ story*;

Ask me how to really break up with someone

And I’ll tell you

Tell him the truth

He’ll run away.

*refer to Friends, Season 2 Episode 10

A Poem by a Woman

I poop. I have hair everywhere.

Above my lips and below them.

I have hair in places you always thought had none.

I have hair in places you want to visit, check out.

I have eyebrows that are shaped every three weeks

to look like a curve, a road, a neat path

so that you don’t feel lost when you see me.

I also pee. Sometimes I fart.

I sneeze, more than a quiet sound, and then things come out of my nose.

I love laughing out loud even if I sound like a witch.

My eyes are not always full of kohl.

Sometimes my lips have more than a coat of gloss,

They have anger, and bitter words.

Sometimes, I cry. I’m not always happy and smiling.

There are nights when under the sheets

my hands slip into my underwear,

I masturbate.

Some days my shoulders hunch, I don’t always walk straight

And I like to sit with my legs wide open.

Once every month, I menstruate for four days

There’s blood, it’s thick and red and dark

And it hurts, and it flows continuously,

Also, my clothes hide it well,

but I have a tummy and marks and scars

from childhood games.

Every day you expect me to hide who I am

from you

So that I can become an image you can idolize

an object too perfect.

But, when you cut me, I bleed.

I’m human.

Things I Think of When I Look at the Stars

I stare at all those stars hurdled together,
so natural, almost like dandruff in someone's hair
and think to myself how happy they look together
but also how far they are from each other,
but there are so many, so many stars in the sky;
I ask them if they look after each other
take care of each other, or just live on their own;
I often think to myself that there are
so many people in the world, so many people,
then why should anyone ever have to feel alone?