You damaged me so
deeply that I want nothing
to do with you now.
Free Verse Poetry and Haiku
You damaged me so
deeply that I want nothing
to do with you now.
for Lindsay
She has magic
in her fingertips
and glitter
on her lips,
creating communities of
catalog clippings and
magazine men
on canvas and foam board
with rubber cement
and the sparkle
in her eyes.
Paper strangers
become neighbors
with the shape of her hands,
as she carefully selects
her sticky society,
giving the two-dimensional
souls the chance
to connect
with us.
They speak
with their eyes,
causing us to pause,
reflect and wonder,
and remind us
that glue
is thicker
than blood.
It was as if
we were on a mountain top --
beautiful view, serene scene,
solid footing --
and then,
all of the sudden,
your new best friend
showed up
and the two of you
parachuted off
the mountain together,
leaving me utterly alone.
The moment you left the mountain,
an earthquake erupted,
causing the ground to
disappear from under me.
Ever since, I've been clinging
to a tree root on the side of the mountain;
trying not to die.
I'm standing in the kitchen;
what was our kitchen.
You had a baking nook
in our kitchen,
a nook in which you prepared
homemade pizza and
gourmet cheesecake.
We shredded the mozzarella
by hand, always saving a
little bit for our puppy dog,
so you could pour a pile
onto the floor for her to enjoy --
the same floor on which
we would occasionally drop
ice cubes, which she would
promptly grab in her mouth
and relocate to the living room
rug to chomp on.
Now the kitchen is quiet.
There is no more
homemade cheesecake
or cheese on the floor
or a doggie to eat it.
There is no more you.
There is no more Us.
I miss being a team,
a feeling you don't understand,
because you teamed up
with someone else
well before our divorce
was final.
I was all in.
You were the only one
on my dance card.
But it often felt like
you had one foot in
and one foot out.
Twelve years into our marriage,
you started playing footsie
with someone else,
followed by the hokey pokey.
Before I knew it,
you put your whole self in
with your new best friend.
You always were
a dancer at heart.
I just assumed that
you would always be my partner.
It's been nearly nine months
since you told me that you
weren't in love with me
and considered our marriage
to be over,
nearly three months since you
moved out of our house, and
nearly two months since
the divorce was final.
I still think about you
all day, every day.
Even after all the damage
you have done, I'm still
in love with you.
And I loathe you
for destroying our family.
I miss all of our
everyday traditions --
calling baked potatoes "tates,"
enjoying
"Whoppers on the Waterfront,"
and taking family trips
in the car -- just us and the pooch.
I miss seeing you bounce
and bee bop on the couch
to music just for fun.
I miss our inside jokes,
our daily family routines,
and our 16-year history,
a history that made me feel
safe and grounded and wanted.
I miss everything.
I miss you.
I miss Us.
Every time I trim my fingernails,
I think of our precious puppy dog
who would drop everything
and sprint into the bathroom
when she heard me trimming my nails.
I'm not exactly sure what she was
hoping to do, but she wanted to be
as close to the action as possible.
Doggone, do I miss her...
I gave you the best years of my life --
31 through 47 --
and then you gave me the heave-ho.
I remember how ecstatic
our beloved doggie got
when she heard me
refilling her food storage container.
She would race down the stairs
as fast as caninely possible
to be as close to the food
as she possibly could,
hoping that I might spill a few
kibbles, or pour a pile
on the floor for an impromptu snack.
Tomorrow, I will take the container
to Goodwill, as she is no longer here,
in what was our house.
How do you stop
loving someone?
How do you go from
talking with someone
every day, sharing every day
with them, and operating as a team
100% of the time
to
zero, nothing, nada, zilch?
You had so many names
during our 16 years together --
One, Bahboo, Baby, BB, Honey,
Babe, Sweet Feet, One Two,
Lover, Baby One, B1, Bee Bop...
Now, you only have one name:
Ex.
I'm haunted by the
ghosts of my former spouse and
precious puppy pie.
Now, you seem like
a phantom,
a fragment,
a figment
of my imagination.
But, I have 16 years of
photos and footage and
an entire house of
evidence and artifacts
documenting that
we were,
in fact,
a "we."
I'm sitting in a rented cabin
in Saugatuck, Michigan,
thinking of you
in Dallas, Texas; wondering
if you are thinking of me.
Why can't I dig you
out of my heart
like a cantaloupe's seeds
so that I can rid myself
of the pain and the memories
and the utter devastation,
and move on to
enjoy the sweet fruit of life?
Everything hurts.
Every second I see
something you bought,
we bought, together,
my heart burns.
Even the frozen fruit
you bought for us
and left behind
in the freezer
kindles the fire in my chest.
You told me that
we kept each other alive
during our first
few years together --
during the years that
we lost everything
and everyone.
But, 16 years later,
you walked out on me
and left me to die
in our big house alone --
the house that you picked out,
the house that you outfitted
with the things that you wanted,
the house that has your fingerprints
all over it.
So, I am left here to die alone,
surrounded by every reminder of you
and the fact that you left me here.
The presence of a
healthy spouse
enlarges your life,
expanding your personhood
into a more well-rounded state.
And when they
divorce you,
you are forced to
fold in on yourself,
squeezing out
the expansion of
heart and soul
that you previously enjoyed,
in order to survive the pain.
Whenever I hear the neighbor
backing his truck into his
driveway, I think of our puppy,
who always barked ferociously
when she heard his truck beeping.
We used to argue
all the time about
sharing the laundry basket.
We finally got a second one
and enjoyed relative peace
on that front.
Now, you're gone
but your laundry basket
remains behind
just like me.
We've been amassing
our junk drawer
for 13 years -- through
two apartments, one condo
and one house,
our house.
Its contents tell the story,
our story.
Wednesday, you are leaving
it all -- our junk drawer,
our house, our life -- behind.
We used to keep our
legal documents together
in our safe box.
Now, my files are in our
safe box alone
and yours are in an
orange folder
waiting to move to Texas
with you.
How am I supposed to share a home
with you and every day together for
13 years
and then, all of the sudden,
never see you again?
How am I supposed to live in our home --
the house you picked out --
with you every day
and then, all of the sudden,
live alone here without you?
How am supposed to live in our home --
a house filled with the things that we lovingly
curated and carefully collected together --
surrounded by everything that belongs here
except for you?
I feel the tug on the seams
of our marriage,
as, thread by thread,
we unravel the tapestry of Us
that we've woven together
over the last 16 years.
My poetry blog
is the vehicle by which
you first felt connected to me.
Now it is the vehicle through which
I must disconnect from you.
I will never see a dog and
not think of you two.
You entered my life
with a dog
and you exited my life
with a dog.
I'm in the office
finishing my workday.
You are downstairs
baking a cheesecake.
The dog floats between
floors, scouring the kitchen floor
for graham cracker crumbs, napping next to you
on the couch between baking steps,
and popping into the office to say hello.
At some point,
you both come into the office,
you to talk about the grocery list,
and the dog to roll around
on the floor to scratch her back.
We are existing
and coexisting
harmoniously, as a unit,
as a family.
The difference is
I want to continue
doing this with you
and you want to do this
with someone else.
I've taken to smelling your shirts
while you are at work,
knowing that they
will not be in our house
for much longer.
Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.
As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.
the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July
with gratitude to Rebecca Davenport for a spectacular ending
Just as there is
a myriad of
flower varieties
on the earth and
a host of tree species
in the world,
there are countless
types of women
on the earth and
innumerable sorts of men
in the world.
"Flowers" are not
confined to "lilies"
and trees are not all oaks.
The earth is a beautiful space,
thanks to the
vast array
of flowers and trees
on display.
A world which awakens
to the full spectrum
of femininity and masculinity
is a glorious place.
I plan to read three poems at this year's PRIDE Open Mic Night, as a part of Holland's 2023 PRIDE celebration.
Thursday, June 1, from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m.
300 S. River Ave.
Holland, MI
My heart feels like it
has been hollowed out by a
steely ice cream scoop.
I danced with a bumble bee unwittingly
during my afternoon walk
very carefully.
My heart feels like a
cavernous chamber housing
only broken glass.
Finished the last of
the hard-boiled eggs
this morning and
stabbed my thumb --
the shell shards
actually drawing blood.
I never knew
Easter eggs could
be so violent.
a fine Sunday morning flapjack breakfast
including one, petite pancake
for the pupWhy is it that,
when a male is young and thin,
in hindsight, we say, "Ha! Ha! He looked like a kid!" --
while, at present,
after years of filling out,
he "finally looks like a man,"
while, at the same time,
when a female is young and thin,
in hindsight, we say, "She looked fantastic!" --
while, at present,
after years of filling out,
she "has really let herself go"?