Excerpt for Worlwhind by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Page | 153


Dedicated To…

Hannah Moskowitz, who told me self-publishing wasn’t scary,

and Amy, who screamed “WHAT” when I told her I wasn’t dedicating the book to her



Table of Contents

New Jersey………………………………………………....page 3

Olney…………………………………………………….……page 7

Italy……………………………………………………………page 63

Sweet Briar…………………………………………….….page 66

Rehoboth Beach………………………………………...page 69

Pittsburgh………………………………………………....page 72

No Man’s Land…………………………………………..page 102







Daydreaming I

Fingers mesh,

A secret dance between two.

So intimate a meeting of flesh

That it frees endorphins

like the seeds of a dandelion

when kissed by a slight breeze.

She is the gentle wind,

and I by comparison, the dandelion.

She is unaffected, a constant smiling beacon,

while I find myself scattered

These fingers,

Light, dancing around each other,

Flirting in secret;

a simple pleasure, temporarily euphoric

leaves me raw and exposed;

I am naked in her presence.

September 2012



You Can’t Leave Me

Bile risen stomach

humbled

and crying and begging

and willing the cuts to grow on my skin--

take my blood,

consume me and spit out the bones--

you deserve it;

I'm still yours,

now skeleton chewed apart;

I'll let you gnaw on the bones if you'd like,

but now you see this form

and are repulsed,

just as I am by my own existence,

and held together by love for you,

and loyalty,

crumbling at rejection:

burn my bones to ashes

and grind them into the earth.

October 11, 2014



Garbage

"Is this trash?" he points at me,

picks me up,

and puts me in the garbage;

discarded,

repulsive,

unwanted.

"I don't think those things about you,"

he lies.

He lies,

he lies,

he lies.

I can't breathe in the trash.

October 12, 2014



Light

I was asked

"what's with all the dark?",

pointing at my face

and I just shrunk

and said

"I like it"

with a shrug.

With a shrug because

I am unable to take myself seriously,

with a shrug because

I'm still little,

with a shrug because

I still hate myself

and I'm angry because I can't

look at light

without getting a migraine--

what's with the dark?

The dark is because

I'm trying to be honest,

and honestly,

because I think in the darkness

I can hide.

Spring 2014






Candy

Pumpkins we're hiding in my brother's drawer

of clothes he doesn't wear,

you and I, we have

a stash of poprocks

to put between lips,

passing with laughter;

sugar that's taboo for me,

smiling, inviting pumpkin filled with promise,

I would scour,

search, I would find

and hoard.

October 2014



Perks of Being a Wallflower

I want my life to become

like a perk that fell off the wall

in fall sweaters

and sepia tones--

I was filled with imaginative visions last night,

but I didn't write them down:

there were

technicolor glasses dancing

across my eyelids,

falling stars to Coldplay--

the scifi empire I wish to leave behind

sprawled out in front of me

where my best friend and I

sat in the car,

rocked to the music,

felt everything in vertigo

bouncing and dancing with us;

these nights should be always,

these nights should be eternal.

September 13, 2014



Joseph, but like Nick

There is a love that revives me,

it does more than make me smile--

it's that huge hit you took

where your throat and eyes

were in orgasmic states,

and warm hands rub your shoulders

while you sip tea,

you are the one place my heart lives;

this book is the one place my

heart speaks.

There is a song I listen to every night

called "A Feeling of Being Closer",

and maybe it's the title

or the time of night,

and "profoundly" may be a misnomer,

but it profoundly reminds me of you--

you are my tea,

my waffle hot and cold,

my blankets,

the animal crackers you bring me on your bike,

the hoodie you gave me but I have the same one,

my every waking moment,

you remind me why it's a very good thing

I exist.

September 14, 2014



Orange Sweater

I am a sweater

an orange sweater,

itchy and scratchy and throwback,

I am high waisted tiny body

no skinny dancer--

power legs--

wrap your arms around my small waist

wrap my legs around your head

and forget what's going on

when strands pull me every way

but you twirl mine around your finger

pull your hands over my legs

clasp me tight--

I'm a perfect fit--

tug me over your head;

I'm my own orange crunchy sweater

handmade.

September 16, 2014



Sophie, before Joseph

Maroon,

fire warmth

warm wood,

my socks and your sweaters,

leaf piles decomposing,

red

bloodshot eyes trying to forget

wounds the year before,

trying hard to be kinder, softer,

biting crunching sweet

crisp wind blush and lost mittens,

safety from cold

seeking home,

tea steam,

old books,

old smell,

same comfort.

September 23, 2014



I’m Afraid of Being Home

Increasing quiet

increasing decrescendo--

you'll find me behind piles

of dirty laundry,

blankets scattered, books

my back barricade.

I shut the door upon entry

and I can feel footsteps and meows

on the other side of the door,

a strange form of invasion--

I am, and always have been,

the alien.

I attempt to receive some peace

from the quiet suffocation,

treat it like a blanket,


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