Moments Belonging to No One
Because the power was out in the apartment,
my mother and I silently ate burritos in the
Taco Bell parking lot.
My order was the same as it always is:
two bean burritos, no red sauce,
fire sauce in the bag please.
Hers was an array of flavors:
substitute the meat for beans
and add as much sauce as possible.
I wonder what it would take for me to be saucy.
I want to be an array of flavors.
I wish to be something with a kick.
When the boy calls me,
the one my mother once named
my "nice young man,"
I accept immediately.
I settle into his voice like a nest.
Nesting, I think, is a beautiful word.
I am a bird in a small world, eyes closed,
head tucked into my chest.
I want to sink into it, melt into this boy
and start nesting.
I cannot imagine ever being alone again.
Even walking in the field at night,
there are always the lamps
illuminating the domes of the trees,
the crescent moon hung like an ornament in the sky,
and the northern star calling out to me.
Perhaps I am no saucy nesting starlight woman,
just a jumble of meaningless words and moments,
untamed and belonging to no one.
YOU ARE READING
Moments Belonging to No One: A National Poetry Month Chapbook
PoetryApril is National Poetry Month, and I have decided, in honor of the month, to write 30 poems for each of the 30 days. A lot happened in my life throughout this month. Mostly what I wrote about was heartache, breakups, exhaustion, and the way life mo...
