rosie poems

22 / new york / all words are mine

[rosiewritespoetry]

Summer Interlude

On the street, children with beaded hair are the 

Only movement in the hazy heat. Their

Mothers rest their eyes on the bench, 

Toes clenching

Dirtied sandals, drinking in a moment of repose.

A cat looks me in the eye and then slinks 

beneath a Toyota Corolla, 

resting in ethanol scented shade, barely

Visible in her calico cloak.  The sun melts into an oozing

Clementine and then

Drenches the sky in a moment of pink. I’m weeping now,

Stuck in the possibilities, the vast space of 

In betweens, the falling of the sky into 

The purgatory of dusk.

[rosiewritespoetry]

Imposter Syndrome

Sometimes I feel like a 

God

Sleek and sharp, arriving on your time

The whites of my teeth on 

display and

My hair smoothed back along the 

nape of my neck

And my back 

arching to you

The softness I create 

bringing you home

I can do anything you want me to

Even while the salt 

pulls my skin taught

And dries my undereyes

While the blood flows 

thick in my ears

And wires cross and spin into 

ringlets

Your hands are calloused and mine are 

Around my own neck and in my dreams

I’m dead but in your eyes 

I’m risen

[rosiewritespoetry]

Untitled

Neither in the holiday lights that

Line the branches of new york trees,

Nor in the ambient music humming 

In the doctor’s office, nor the triumphant 

Sound of brass instruments can I find it,

That thing everyone’s talking about.

Instead each morning my stomach 

Feels the weight of a new day, urging me

To forget, to release, feel the sweet haze of

Half-sleep. I want to feel soft again,

To release the heft, the tugging at

My waist, the stormy weather in my 

Eyes, the enigmatic dance of the chemicals 

In my brain. It’s snowing outside, and 

A snowflake trickles in from my open

Window. It’s life is precise, born from

A larger force I’ll never understand.

[rosiewritespoetry]

Yellow Light

“That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this 

incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be 

afraid, ever… Sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can’t

 take it, and my heart is just going to cave in.” 

-Ricky Fitts, American Beauty

-

In early December, I watch the trees sway outside 

From my window, their yellow leaves 

Glowing against industrial Bushwick. 

Hundreds of birds hum a divine 

Winter hum, resting their little bodies 

On neighboring buildings, 

Cars passing below them, wheels on concrete, 

Concrete on soil, alive and 

Breathing. In early December, I feel 

My limbs stretching with the 

Universe as it grows toward nothingness,

The breadth of life and all its enormity resting its 

Hands on my shoulder bones, cradling my 

Tired skull, rubbing my aching temples.

For the first time I can remember,

I feel the warmth of safety, the sweetness of

Repose beneath the afternoon light.

[rosiewritespoetry]

Record

"If being wrong’s a crime

I’m servin’ forever

If being strong's your kind

Then I need help here with this feather"

-Paul Westerberg

~

When I was young I thought

The world would run out of melodies

That musicians would begin reusing each other’s

Like parakeets

But then I learned that the world is

Infinitesimal

And it was just mine that spun like a record

When I was young I arranged shards of glass

Like a puzzle that couldn’t fit, but

With attention and precision they

Could just enough

The gaps picayune

Every other day they would disperse

Floating in water flecked with shards

And every other day I would put them back

Together and suck the blood from the tips of

My fingers, a small vampire of the daytime,

Fighting her small war.

[rosiewritespoetry]

March

The dark night is draped heavy over the

 Roof of the house and saliva lines the rims of

Tequila bottles. All the bodies are gone except 

Yours,

Standing still and breathing, no longer required of

Words and sounds and flashes of teeth and

Corners-of-mouth-turned-upward. And then,

All at once, 

Your body sinks into the softness of itself without

Further request for motion. 

And through the window the moon asks you to surrender, 

and you do.

[rosiewritespoetry]

notes on leaving home (longing)

in a deep dream i am an astronaut. 

i gaze out upon the smooth curve of 

planet earth from the passenger window

of a spaceship and and am fixated

upon the way she floats, 

as though she lies on a substance,

(thicker than water, yet as mesmeric)

and her bright, piercing blueness,

stark against the liquidy black universe,

dark as the dank and icey cold

caves buried within her, terrifyingly quiet.

creatures crawl over her ripe flesh,

(sometimes green and sometimes brown, 

sometimes supple and sometimes brittle

from lack of rain) 

they feast on her fruits, greedy and ravenous,

they drink her water, yet are never quenched.

motionless and without the gravity that pulls me to her

i am bleary eyed and fearful, aching

for home, for her velvety grasses, 

the longing songs of passing birds, desperate for 

heat, the ripple of her flowing creeks and

the powerful stature of her towering trees,

the repose of her body, teeming with life.

[rosiewritespoetry]

The End, For Now

The world is not ending

The world is ending.

I must let go of all notions of

Longing. I must let go.

I refuse to expect. I expect

To ask and not receive. I

Expect to feel more than my

Body can hold. I expect that

Wolves will scour. I expect to

Become one. We will witness 

The curling of paint, 

The exiting of bodies.

The filling of mouths and the 

Emptying of them. We will be

Stripped raw. It will be liberating

And it will hurt. We will see each

Others blood. We won’t draw it

From each other. Our children will

Ask why they should say please.

We will not know how to answer.

[rosiewritespoetry]

may

late at night

wind blows around the 

chimney and darkness 

drips down into 

the living room pouring 

in through the windows

bleeding purple on the 

wooden slats. the house 

holds no sound but that

of resonating repetition.

i lie awake dreaming

of leaves in the rain

waving at me like children.

[rosiewritespoetry]

early evening

a fly dances along the rim 

of my glass of ginger-ale 

and franklin twitches in 

his sleep. these small moments 

i hold between my teeth as

to stop the continuum.

the summer air hangs 

heavy in the room,

planting my feet to the dark 

wood and making my chin 

stick to the heat of my knees. 

blue sky meshes 

to a creeping sullen gray. still-

i feel the sweetness of a cool breeze

passed from a tree

into

my bedroom.

[rosiewritespoetry]

storm

in front of the coolness of the air     conditioner, safe in the blue of my bed, another headline said they’re dead.   i’ll never know who they are so    i don’t have to worry.    the headline said the water ate the sand away and    drank their homes and    sucked the breath from their lungs and    the headline said it’s getting worse.   somewhere far away    the air stunk of opulence     and men celebrated greed    while the air filled with grey dust.    and before the storm a mother    held a bowl to her chest and mixed    a concoction that smelled    of coconut and warmth    and her baby lay in repose.    before the storm hit    she smelled the exhaust and kneeled.

[rosiewritespoetry]

ode to an age

when I was small I let my body grow    blue with the waves. salt licked my skin dry and my shoulder blades grew    darker overnight. and even though    i knew many things hurt I could    abandon them.    today, I’m back again beneath the sun and    on the hardwood floorboards of this old house,    the one that holds warm   breath in its walls,    where the doors creak with a    certain eerie slowness. And    today I bear the cross of a new age that    i seemed to blink and become. lately, the    mere thought of it has left me in a fetal position    in the darkness beneath    my covers. i’m older yet I’ve grown    soft as emerald moss.   lately, my knuckles have    grown weary at the firmness of my    grasp. lately, I am wanting once again to    be blue and cold.