I am the cul-de-sac and the grass on the other side,
a pale yellow room, with wild things in frames
and the door kept shut.
I am brown hair, brown eyes, 5’8 or 5’9,
but never normal enough.
The homemade strawberry ice cream cone,
constantly turned to keep from dripping
I am the family that makes the Brady Bunch look broken,
with cracks left untouched,
mink wraps tossed to little girls for dress-up,
along with the mantra “don’t mess up,
don’t mess up-“
I am the homecoming queen in a borrowed dress.
I am the girl that loves the ocean,
that goes farther than you can see,
to where the sky shifts,
blue gray gold red
I am the empty starry nights,
full of distant lights
that weigh heavy on my shoulders as I get older
climbing rust in the dark,
always searching for something caught
behind the horizon
between the bindings
I am the tangled sheets
and the guilty Sunday mornings.
I am the coin,
tossed tipping two faced
with groaning metal in-between
always having to shine
having to hide
I am the fence, sagging under the weight of vines.
I am the girl with face and fate
that have never quite