love poems

There is nothing more deranged than a teenage girl. During this drawn out reverie, my mind keeps coming back to Ramona. My baby who is a girl. Someday I'm going to slap my hand to my face and say, "what the hell is wrong with that girl?".

I just hope she never discovers Sylvia Plath.

So, in honor of that. In honor of being sick with love and very young; some love poems that are only slightly deranged:

coming clean

On a clear day you come pretty clean

and I can see you for miles.

Going north

I found tides of you

and boats white with destination.

I've found you

and you are lost again,

you do this easier with the cold.

I bought a big coat

to not think of you, it is not of you

that I teach school; I've buried myself

with books of penmanship, I can hide

from you while grading,

grading him, grading math.

But only on clear days

your house stands white.

And your brown smokestack

navigates me,

knows that I step on snowy steps,

on broken boxes to look deeply into you.

This morning, found

and found to be lost again,

I found a great land in your

deep wide steps.

you love others

You love others

and this drops me into a deep draining pit,

slipping,

my neck is gone,

my toes went long ago.

Water stole my face and my name,

and it can not matter because you might be in love.