I've been so focused on my playwriting, essays, and nonfiction that I had lost my poetry. Here is a toe in the water.
Sylvia fell from a star. She waited till no one was watching—no one
noticed. Her mother on the moon couldn’t see. Mother confected candies
and watched her pots boil over while Sylvia concocted lists.
Sylvia listened to the rain and wouldn’t cry.
It’s not mother’s fault. Sylvia knew it wasn’t. She inhaled
mother’s cooking: sticky sweet bad candy.
Sylvia was lonely when she fell, still waiting for credit.
She was always the mature one. Childish as it was
she couldn’t fight the excitement of flight.
Barry drew maps for Sylvia of the journey from the stars to the earth.
Barry was plastic but that was before mother began
baking layer cakes and cookies. Mother was so proud of her sweets.
Barry is silly. His eyes bulge out making him look like a pug puppy only he is hairless
with a sallow complexion. Sylvia thought his sweater looked itchy;
his sweater made her uncomfortable.
There were words she wished she knew, but for now she needed only maps.
Causes Kali Meister Supports
Sexual Assault Crisis Centers, Amnesty International, West Memphis 3, Doctors Without Borders, GLTB Activism