At last, I’ve summoned the bravery to share my June poems. If anyone was waiting (which seems doubtful), thank you for your patience.
This project––writing a poem every day for the month of June––challenged me in many ways. As I describe in my previous post, poetry demands a far larger creative budget than I am used to. These words are expensive.
Most days, I ignored my Notes app like a disgruntled employee ignoring their inbox (or any place demanding a response). I procrastinated the task of poetry––sometimes, I even dreaded it. The poem I wrote on June 12 captures this feeling rather well, actually.
June 12 – Messy There are moments throughout the day When I pause, wondering Should I write my poem now? No, I tell myself It’ll come to you tonight As if a poem arrives As a neat Amazon package Ordered just that morning As if daily wisdom Accumulates with hours For a nightly paycheck Or maybe I just want to avoid the mess Of writing Fine. I’ll do it tonight Between sheets Beneath dark windows No one will see
Ironically, this poem inspired one I wrote later, after the month had ended. This post-June poem––titled “Caution Tape”––is one I could be proud of. I’ll include it at the bottom of this post.
Unlike “Caution Tape,” however, I didn’t write any June poems with an audience in mind. I couldn’t even bring myself to share the whole collection––the most personal ones have been excluded from this post.
Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of most of these. Maybe that’s the nature of poetry. Or the nature of a non-poet.
Anyway, here’s what I have to offer:
June 2021
June 1 – Spinning
I miss the way the world turned
Before your absence turned with it
Spinning around and around
Inside my body
When the day wanes
And your absence spins faster
I grow too still
Sometimes, I can barely
turn
my
head
June 3 – Contemplating a Nap I’m tired But even more intimidated by naps The chemical reaction Of dreams fizzling with afternoon Would my mouth taste tired All over again? Wasted hours sitting on my tongue How would the day feel If cut in two? Probably cheated Yelling at me You’re not young anymore! Afternoons have a tendency To lose their patience How would the night feel Falling over a rested body? It might crackle Edges sharp And who am I, to crackle night?
June 4 – Fortune Cookie “You have friends, and you know it.” The cookie told me I only believe those fateful receipts When 48 is listed as lucky Turning the paper in my fingers, the number appeared I blushed She smirked “You can’t deny it,” she said As if she expected me to
June 7 – Can/not
It’s nights like these
When my chin falls
And my fingers drag
And I cannot hold myself
I miss your arms
Your arms are yours; I remind myself
But I wish they were mine
You cradle me and everything I cannot do
In the same embrace
same breath
Until cannot breaks––not drifting away
Like the back of a spaceship
I wonder if your arms give you the power
They give me
I wish they were mine
June 11 – New and Old Against the bars Of a freshly opened city We threw our joy and our bodies Tequila mouths bitter Screaming the lyrics To songs of an ancient world I danced through bubbles of strangers Like starved animals Their faces unmasked And I was looking for him Still
June 13 – Producer Angst So much talk of Words saving the world Mine? Wouldn’t that be everything Can my words Stand without my name Orphaned, oceans away Can they grow bigger Than my fingers Than the people I embrace Can they captivate cruel strangers With sharp eyes and teeth Not thinking of production Not of me Are my words The kind that save? Wouldn’t that be everything
June 14 – Reunion He’s 15 minutes away And I don’t know how to write a poem About my mascara Cleaned-up room Quivering skin Restless feet Body listening For his car Hello, good to see you I guess I’ll say Words are silly sometimes
June 16 – Cravings I need the ocean, I think I want to feel that empty way In the evenings Washed clean from the inside Salty chalk lingering In the corners of my body (finally, an easy poem to write)
June 19 – Rebuilding (part 1) I wish I could rebuild myself with air Deep breaths as stone foundation And four strong walls Count them 1… 2… Whispers of self-assurance Blocking out all other sound The rise and fall of my chest Sucking in power It’s ok, you’re ok As if anyone is listening
June 20 – Rebuilding (part 2) I wish I could rebuild myself with air If only strength were so easily acquired Gulps and gasps wouldn’t seem so Embarrassingly: human No, I’d be transforming Into a goddam dragon
June 22 – Cloudy The past is not fixable But it’s not fixed, either And I keep stirring it up Clouding the windows My thoughts are in past tense They take me to empty hallways Everyone else has left Time is a vacuum But there’s too much dust
June 23 – Missing What did Lorde say About a writer in the dark? “She’s gonna play and sing and lock you in her heart” I’m searching for that writer now Stumbling on her secret power As if it were just Behind her knees My phone is a flashlight, a weak excuse for one I’m waist-deep in shadows Calling for her But it’s too damn echoey in here “Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark” Lucky for you, She’s missing
June 24 – Full of Space
It’s hard to make space for poetry,
I’ve realized
Space for thought accumulation
For words pouring
down
Trying to catch the right ones
In my red bucket
Am I inspired by days?
Drinking their entirety
To find a poem at the bottom
Of my red bucket
My belly feels too full
June 26 – Thinking Sometimes I think If I think enough Something good will happen As if the bad was thought too hard–– ––it broke, and the pieces washed away Usually I think I know the difference Between anxiety and my gut Which is lying and which is true But then, I start thinking And I think about What others think about In the car, out the window When they think they’re alone
June 29 – Happy Returns I dip into this place with my fingers Seaweed tendrils Between the periwinkles I lick my skin clean I can feel the layers Of all summers spent here They cradle me I’m ready to grow tired of myself Of my lumps and roughness Left uncovered By the rocks I’m ready to watch the sky and Her big, wide mirror All her lumps and roughness Mocking mine
Caution Tape (Post-June) I handle myself Like I’m so damn fragile We don’t want to make a mess Do we? Don’t open that here Let’s wait till we get home Heaven forbid it leaks Or stains Your nice shirt Stop Running away Through the legs of strangers Tell them your name And your age Hold up fingers if you can’t count Maybe they’ll be kinder Stop Smearing finger-paints of broken landscapes All over living room walls Wash that off Let’s hope your eyes hold enough water And why is your bed a mess And why are your lips beneath the pillow Gross Did you tear them off again?
Quiet Histories 