Wednesday, November 24, 2010

RIP my Prince. My sweet, sweet boy.

I will choose to remember you like this. And I wish I could write something more eloquent, something more deserving to celebrate your life that you would have so easily given for me, to describe how innocently you loved without asking for anything back, but right now, I can't.

Right now I will work on remembering you like this. With your head out the window. Or in my lap.

Rest now, my boy, in peace.

Friday, November 19, 2010

horcruxes or hallows?

beautiful and dark. raw and whimsical. left me aching.

boy in the cupboard under the stairs no more, but a man with five o'clock shadow and the dull ache of loss, with hands that have felt a body seep life and eyes that have seen too much.

so young, to be fighting so many.

i watched until my eyes hurt.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Saturday, November 13, 2010

"Parents," said Harry,

"shouldn't leave their kids unless - unless they've got to."


"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

i literally shivered to the tips of my toes the first time i read this.

Kingsley was striding

backward and forward, glancing up at the sky every time he turned. Harry was reminded of Uncle Vernon pacing the living room a million years ago.


it really does feel like a million years ago.

"Our best chance is to use decoys.

Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven."

There was a brief silence

in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years.


who else remembers it?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

peeling pomegranates

it was like giving birth,
in that cramped apartment,
fingers sifting through soft
flesh for ripened seeds

it was like committing murder
on that scratched wooden floor,
in your underwear,
ruby juice like blood, spattered
against lower stomach,
right above where your womb 
would be

would be.

it was like leeching life, 
to lick it from your fingers,

it was like the most lonesome
kind of death, to fall asleep,
curled into yourself on that floor,
room, heart and abdomen empty,
thighs, teeth, and hands
stained red. 

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

the almost girls. (extended)

we are the almost girls
the not quite girls
the nearly, nearly
just right girls

the all but girls,
the close to girls,
the somewhere in the ball park girls,

the just about girls,
the not quite
without a doubt girls,
the mostly, on the verge of, 
not far from girls

the somehow, somehow
never just right girls. 

Monday, November 8, 2010

almost girls

we are the almost girls
the not quite girls
the nearly, nearly
just right girls

Sunday, November 7, 2010

i should thank you

for disillusioning me, but right now it only makes me sad.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

your mother's tragedies.

dried up lakes remind her of her mother
and she doesn't want to be the girl
who wrote a thousand poems
for a boy she never met

eating grapefruit
makes her think of her mother's mouth,
of lipstick left in the tube too long, 
and she doesn't want to spend her life
missing a face she's never seen

her mothers hands smell like bleach,
nails chipped, 
and she doesn't want to wake up one morning,
with her mother's tired face
and yellow eyes,
still in love with ghosts of men
from her mother's past.