Jericho and Fireflies

i was born under
a pennsylvania moon               
in the middle of jericho.

where all the walls
had decided
they were done
being womb                              
and crumbled to the blow
of winter winds.

i was whisked out of
from my cocoon
too soon                                   
and spent weeks
piped to feed and breath
for me.

the moment
they let me out                       
mom and dad
moved me back forth.

i have been hopscotching
from city to city
since 06
and thus have forgotten
how to play dominoes.
or cards or do puzzles
or anything done sitting still
because the
        rhythm                                
    of
        my
    life
doesn't allow me
to squat for much
longer than the linger
of my scent cross these sheets
so i've learned
to sink in deep while i can.

place my print in
these pillowtops
before the moon drops              
and its moving day again.

i find it hard
to be me sometimes.
too busy trying                           
be a resident.

sometimes i pretend
i'm a commited writer
but come on,
n****s spend more time
trying to pair their                      
tops and shoes
then i do
scraping these wounds
over screens
letting ink bleed.

i'm just not
consistent enough                     
to hold a title.

i'm only a student
til the summer
so don't try and teach
me in july.
there are summer sins                
that i won't even
begin to learn from
til autumn starts to
reek of jansports
and gym clothes.

i'm only the baby
on holidays.
only hear from all
3 sisters when courtesy             
twists our wrists
and force fingers
to remember phone numbers
filed under family.

so i can't believe
when n****s still
text me good mornings.
there's been so many
since we've last talked            
and the last time
we walked the same grounds
i switched my route
and pretended
i didn't see you.

ashamed i let you
think there was room
in my inconsistency.
should've warned you
not to bring your pillow          
cause theres little
chance i'll still
like you in the morning.

those sunrises can be             
so haunting.

when the sun
is so low
its shape is tombstone           
how could i not
bring up those bones
in my closet?

i can't answer your call
today because                      
we were never meant
to last past 24 hours.

that's like two fireflies
trying to keep                        
their glow past dawn.
dont you find it pointless?

i have learned
to harvest as much as i can
before the season ends        
and the infatuation                           
turns to wrinkles
and withers.

Alysia once said
poets love love
because love is life
and we're
afraid of death
so we create                       
between where we are
and were
and where we were going
but i am here.

standing in a shower
trying to scrape
these postage stamps
off my corners                   
cause cargo holds
haven't been
all that good to me.

pops has wrapped
    and stamped
       and boxed
          and shipped me    
more times than i'll admit
because honesty
doesn't drip off your lips
as easily as blood
when you hit maturity
and are taught
to bite your tongue.

the only roots i have
were sowed                    
in my convictions       
so im destined to roam
everywhere except
in my faith.

my sister knows
of my wishes
to never have to wilt      
beneath mahagony.
i want to be cremated
when i die.

i want to be fire fly.
bathed in the bright
of a thousand firelfies
in a daytime thunderstorm
to make up for lost time.

but don't
scatter my remains.
sit me in a vase
on the end
of your mantle                
with a candle
and i'll pray
for you're stability
for all the days
i spent in transit.

after living
all those years in
   solidarity   with   the   wind
i'd at least like to
spend my sleep
in one spot.
       

Reviews

[...]

This was amazing! I have always wanted to travel, never thinking I would ever feel they you do. I can see your point though and you wrote it so beautifully well! Awesome poem :)

[Nicolette Robinson]

thank you