Morning Shower

Every day I touch the ocean.

I turn towards cold,

bring my hands over my ears.

She waves, running towards me. I hear her laughing.

I don’t care about my hair- its frizz or frailty.

I am afraid

so I plunge my head beyond the shallow.

And again tomorrow.

Boys

This little boy thinks he’s clever.

This little boy thinks he’s dumb.

This little boy’s covered in vomit.

This little boy’s not having fun.

This little boy cries in the corner.

This little boy has no home.

This little boy wants things his way.

This little boy feels alone.

Brother Atlas

In my dream, Atlas shook beneath the cold cosmos. 

I walked years to find him, 

Wiped salted strain from tired eyes, 

And pressed a warm palm against his chest. 

I retold the sacred stories of others

Who’d suffered greatness. 

Spinning the wheel three times, I offered my bow

Of dreams to hold him. He accepted.

The stars passed over him,

No heavens came thundering down

While he savored the lightness of his being

And he started to sing.

Rested, he took back his greatness

And held up the sky, again.