the poet speaks one last word...

1.

you asked me
about poetry
and this is it:
it's like
digging holes in
the frozen earth
and spilling words
seedless, soundless and
big.
it's like
following him
down to the bottom
of your broken heart
and the only one to
come up for air
is him.
it's like
drowning
in pointless emotions.
it's like
loving
someone who kills you.
you asked me
about poetry
and that's it.

***

2.
Morning, I...

washing off the make-up
from last night
i consider
my latest brushes
with disappointment
a bad date
the end
a wedding...
i focus on
the face in the mirror
as i pass a washcloth over
the features
i call them out
my eyes.
my nose.
my ears.
my lips.
my chin.
mine.
and i realize that
even if
no one else does
i care for it
i want it
i love it
it's not nameless
it's mine and
no one else's.

***

3.

i have grown
my emotions are
no longer simple
maybe even too big
my skin can't
hold them in anymore...

***

4.

sitting in a bagel shop
downtown
pretending to be
homeless
i got
no place to go
i got
nothing to do
but sit
drink coffee and
watch people.
really
i'm just rootless
restless...
i don't want to go home
i don't want to stay outside
but i got no one to go to
so i sit
in this shop
breathing in coffee and
the cold air
people bring in
with them.