Tiny Roots
I am not
tall
not jack and the
giant growth spurt,
been small bean
tiny roots my
whole life.
I am
adult child
tippy toes to kiss
those who turn
their cheek every time.
I am not
sunny enough for
anyone to live off me.
I am
9:30 pm
blacked out drunk
photo in front of
my university’s chapel
because I never remember
when I find god
or if I ever
really did.
I am
that last bit of
cough syrup you saved
for the day you
got better,
the autosave
on google drive
before your laptop fucks you
and crashes in the middle
of your midterm paper.
I try my hardest
to make you better,
keep you intact,
but I can’t change
why you needed me
in the first place.
I am not
made right,
cookie crumbles
instead of melt in your
mouth.
I am hard
to swallow.
151 christening
the back of my throat
while you whimper
after one shot of
strawberry lemonade svedka.
That’s sangria to me, that’s
water
to me.
I promise you
I will teach you how
to chug,
how to make wince
look like wink
look like smooth
waterfall thunder
crashing into gut
as long as you
are willing to open throat.
I am not
batten-down-the-hatches
outdoor basement lock
I am
panic room,
all the food and drink
you need in me.
I am plentiful.
I am enough.
Sometimes
I am too much.
I am the
over drinker the
too stoned the
too much fight
too much love
not enough balance.
I am
clumsy.
Not enough equilibrium
between my ears
maybe that’s why I am
Queen of Miscommunication
Queen of Misunderstandings
Queen of “Can you
say that again? I
didn’t quite hear you.
I am drowning
through waves of
something that looks a lot
like water but it
burns good enough to
quench”
I am
masochist disguised as
train wreck,
I needed an excuse
to be in the hospital
just to check out
of life for a few days,
lay in bed for a few days
feel too small
to go to work for a few days
because I am
tired of having to act big
seem tall
when I am
small bean
tiny roots
have been my whole life.
But I am
starting somewhere,
I am growing
going somewhere.
I am
just waiting for
the next rainfall
to wash away these
pesticides.
I am waiting
for the day I become
balanced and
I can stand up without
bumping into some
other clumsy part of me,
I can look at her
and ask her why she’s still
here because
I am
here now.
I am
plentiful.
I am
enough.