Putting myself out there...

And jumping back into the pool...


(In which I post a poem on the blog, knowing you're reading...to prove I'm not scared of you!)



Honesty: the Unfinished Poem


This poem was rejected
by you, or I’m lying.

There’s a sky—a big one—and that’s
a truth. Do you understand?

Birds are flapping around my head
right now. Am I manipulative?

Once I lost a plastic shovel in a swift
river, and my father followed it down.

When he came back, his chest was
rock-cut to shreds, but he had the damn shovel.

I’m not manipulative, but maybe
I’m overeager. Maybe I want things.

And hey, there are birds now, flapping
in this poem, and a swift river too.

And my father is here, post-swim,
bleeding and young, hugging me.

He’s brave, strong, making a sacrifice
for a small cheap thing, long-since-lost.

And if you go back, trace your steps,
visit the beginning, you’ll see

what I did, that I invited you in—
gave you the power. To make me happy,

or honest. I might be a liar or not.
The river, the birds— we’re waiting.