I Do Not Write

I DO NOT WRITE For fear that the lines May be freed of the tightly bound rope I dare not unwind I do not write for fear of the dusty and the buried. In the hope that they might remain In the tiniest box, tucked away, hidden, across the expanse of the abandoned room. This is my blog of poetry, prose. The lyrics of the soundtrack to my life.

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

palms outstretched toward a negligent sun

i planted the seeds

gray clouds rained the coveting

sorely won

you grew a heart in my garden

you plucked blossoms

the color of love

then, for a while

my decoration

was enough

in late autumn I learned

prettiness conceals

uproot

as the cold

froze you

once

you grew a heart in my garden

you plucked the blossoms

and gave them to her

you grew a heart in my garden

you plucked the blossoms

you’re no more a nurturer

than I a flower

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

What is Wrong With My Heart, A List of Grievances

I was given one that sputters too much at the start

but cannot stop

It slips out of its cage in the middle of the night

to listen to dried tears

It is prone to provocation and it

pumps and pumps

squeezing blood

on the carpet

I cannot wipe it up

the guts tip and spill as I bend

for everyone

and especially

the undone innocent

the viscous crimson rises to my neck

I choke on my own warmth

it is a once a day occurrence

And I am tired.

— not of drowning

but of dying in the place

of people who will not be saved

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

1/25

You come and go

January melts blue popsicles

And candied February takes her place

The calendar quantifies and subdivides

The crossed-out days

I lie in waiting —

neck bent, pressed crookedly

against the frozen earth

Will you crack the surface?

Set me free?

I do not mean to scapegoat —

In the time that it needs to be

Molten July sun,

too, has its way

—Though less insidiously so

This burn is of a different kind

Like late winter ice

You sting

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

For a Harsh Self-Critic

for now you dwell

between heaven and hell

do not count yourself

among the denizens of either place

draw back the veil

of condemnation

let yourself see the

light of day

keep your sights

on the white

and remember who it’s for

(you)

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

I almost said, “Hello.”

I want to say hello

But it’s 1 am and you aren’t home

That light burned out

Some time ago

How do I unlove?

Your turn to turn away

I was told not to make homes

Of humans

The stoicism for which I was condemned

You wear with honor, now

But I see your quivering heart.

Was not, was it?

Was it, was not.

We and you and I and us and he and she who cannot be

And, I guess, never were

I want to say hello

But it’s 1 am and you aren’t home

That light burned out

Some time ago

How do I unlove?

My turn to turn away

I was told not to make homes of humans

Though I never thought I’d live

To see my own ghost

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Second Fiddle

(Because you are no longer mine)

Do not press against my spine,

With your oil-slicked fingertips.

I have no interest in the labyrinths  

That mar my back with proof.

You cannot rest your head.

I will not slide

into the void against your neck,

I will not sing for you.

(Because you are no longer mine)

Do not press against my spine

You are not welcome atop my veins —

They pulsate for new hands.

(Because you are no longer mine)

Do not press against my spine

You would do best

To bear in mind, dear dreamer,

That there is no music

Without the maker

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

I can always find you

Grazing imploring fingertips

between the niches of my mind

Extensions of outstretched arms

Tolerant of their hollow

You navigate the wax and wane

Of fear and derision

Your exploratory soul fears nothing

He holds his head upright

With conviction he battles

And he sees clearly in the dark

The gentle man and steady heart

I am lucky that

Every so often he volunteers the march

To find me there

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Tragedy

I clamp both hands —

Against my alkaline head

As Tragedy shrieks and sings

She orbits me

And laughs

I am bound to the stake of invalidity

Where I watch my friends burn

The vantage point of antiheros and cowards

I clamp both hands —

Against my alkaline head

As Tragedy shrieks

The banshee who cares not who goes

So long as she can sing

I clamp both hands —

Against my alkaline head

As Tragedy shrieks and sings

But I am always too late

Tragedy does not knock at the door

She is already standing in the corner

Of the room where you sleep

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Do Not Ask Courage of Sheep

Do not ask courage of sheep  Do not implore the sinners to weep Without the trail of bones from neck to tail you cannot stand Do not ask courage of sheep The blind do not see Water turned wine for only lips of belief  Do not ask courage of sheep Let them flock and take heed from the dogs who mind their keep  Do not ask courage of sheep

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

The Written Word (A Love Letter)

I regret that you so often wake me

Preferring the incandescence of a 3 o’clock hour

Too often, overstay your welcome Or forget to return Naked, then  I bear the weight of your lovemaking I hate to see myself between my hands  I’m not sure you love me in return  But I am smitten

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Grace

So far from grace

I handed you freely

Aftermath undermining ecstacy

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Year 1

I drank in your darkness

Did not complain once

Now

I stretch to your flecked flesh

While you leave my bones to bleach

Your love, too

Spoils in the sun

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Gold

Treat your love like gold

Do not hand it out in droves

Nor let the interlopers hollow out

your home

Hold close to the Earth —

She will love you more

Than the neck you’re strung upon

And

Do not barter with your soul

Treat your love like gold

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

The lonely highway

spokes

The holes in me close

The same night sky that watched us

Both ways

Heals

I’m coming home

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

Don’t trade your love for ghosts.

To have and to hold —

No equivalent

Of held

Don’t trade your love 

For ghosts

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

13

In the purple night

You promised, I quickened.

The bare trees watched

And on a cold Sunday

It was not spoken of

[jessicalaurenyuppa]

We Could Fly

We could fly

But we are tethered to our bones

We could fly

But gravitons beckon our wings

We could fly

We could sing

But we are stones

We could fly

But we won’t