1 Poetry

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Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A vigor

Masculinity is leather-bound hands holding you closed, taut skin, how he taught you to hold your mouth as a purse-string, drawn together so no one can steal from you; a pocket full of loose change, lost marbles, mouth so full of bees; they'll sting you if you let them. Keep your tongue...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A delicate

Femininity is pressed flower petals in your grandmother’s tabletop bible, hand-me-down to your mother, probably won’t ever make it to your hands; it nests under the coffee table your father made for her so many years ago from the oak trees whose memory you never had the pleasure of...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A the sound of salt

Floating— saltwater soak; ocean air, breathing serenity into overactive lungs. I can hear the sea crashing, wavewhite into water-smoothed, weather beaten rocks and she is laughing.

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A rain-damp

Anne Sexton is on my nightstand when I tell you I am too tired to get out of bed. My bones are damp with rain and heavy with ache, waterlogged, and it storms every day now; such is the nature of autumn in Pennsylvania. I listen to the raindrops, count them, and...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A of the people who have made impressions

One was pale skin and freckles, hair as copper as the pennies you’d pressed into your palms, sweat on your chest, fogged car windows, making it home by curfew. Always PG13, always wondering if you were enough to be loved, always wondering why he didn’t hunger for your body like the...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A echoing of gunshots

*in memoriam i. Ambulance screams past the diner where I am waiting tables, waiting for a better chance at something, anything. Someone listening to their police scanners tells me it’s a gunshot wound. I assume I don’t know them....

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A when your voice is lost in an ocean of voices

Society says, when he pries open your legs, like a burglar pries open a locked door, do not fight him. If you are in this position, it is your own fault that you have left yourself vulnerable. When you come clean about it in an outcry, you will be dissected like a frog on the...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A tonguelost

People used to wait for me with bated breath. This was when my hair was long and beautiful, when I used to keep longing between my teeth and the sounds of the ocean were tucked away in my cheek and when you kissed me, you said I was saltwater wonder. I was a sad story on the newsstand,...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A canicule

. I am summer freckle-faced bright, wet, moss-eyed moments and sleeping winter bones.

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A to let go

After 9/11, they stitched patriotism into our spines and slapped away our fingers when we tried to touch the incision site. We were only fourth grade nothings, still malleable, so we learned to heal around shrapnel splinters by always expecting that brown hands on a bomb would dismantle us....

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A sojourn

. I tend to make a home of people while people make a home of me and we are eternally matryoshka dolls, nesting in another's bones.

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 14 Sep 2012 Tag: lost

A dust dreams

I do not remember the first time we spoke, voice to voice between telephone lines, but I remember the way it felt to hold you to my ear while the river lapped at my feet; I remembered how it felt to have a confidant that I could tell my secrets to, and it wouldn't matter if you spilled...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 03 Sep 2012 Tag: lost

A yesteryear

i used to write the most haunting things, when i used to word ravens and willows into my thoughtspace; weave wonders into the act of drowning, the gurgling of my inner voice as i sunk, suddenly Ophelian. i plucked dandelions, always dandelions, always an abundance of unwanted weeds,...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 23 Feb 2012 Tag: lost

A pastel pale

I yawned away my childhood, always wanting, always ready to grow up, and older, and out of my skin; shed myself like a snake, and leave just a memory with the dust and the dreams, and the stuffed animals I’d deemed too young for me. I read books, many many books, voraciously and...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 23 Feb 2012 Tag: lost

A Cirque du Sept

~{Cirque du Sept}~ Seven imaginary girls dance silhouette solos inside a tent like shadow puppets on canvas walls, and their movements are seamless, like close-eyed kisses. They are, only in my mind. ..one time only.. The lights dim and suddenly, there's a spotlight on center ring and...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 12 Feb 2012 Tag: lost

A flowerbruises

there are bruises, blue as van gogh’s irises, burnt onto my skin, with charcoal smudges kissed around the edges. there are bruises, the thumbprint of secrets typed to the surface; my skin, a notepad for numbness, the staining of sorrow.

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Jan 2012 Tag: lost

A secret british girls

Sometimes, I stare at your picture for hours... remembering words you've never spoken aloud, remembering music you've never sang to me-- the lyrics are just falling from the sky like rain and I am bathing in your beats; with these black-and-blue knees, I'm kneeling at your feet begging you to...

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