Lent

Marsha from church asks if my family celebrates Lent and I say no

My father's parents both went to seminary but me?

I don't know what happens between Mardi Gras and Good Friday

After twenty years of going to church—and I love going to church—I don't know the first thing about it

Lisa's giving up chocolate and I thought about it

Thought about the good it would do for my budget, my waistline, my self confidence

I am Discipline. I can go forty days without chocolate.

And so I didn't.

I don't know about ashes on people's foreheads or semi-vegetarians but I do know that my God will probably not be impressed if I can go forty days without chocolate

And I don't know as much about trade routes or the Middle East or even Christianity as I should, but I don't think Jesus ate much chocolate

He would probably not be impressed either

People have told me that it's all about being closer to God

That every time you forgo a Hershey's bar, you will remember why

Feel it in your heart

Remember the sacrifice He paid

But I think

That I would feel it in my stomach

And forget about the heart

And I am good at forgetting about the heart

Good at not having feelings

Talking about deep passion for history or languages or rock climbing

As if you could ever love an idea as much as you can love a person

I am great at rejecting people

Intentionally or not

Romantically or not

Telling them no and I'm sorry, or staring them down before they ever ask

I started writing down things I might give up for lent

Salt and vinegar chips

Facebook

Sleeping past ten

Mirrors

Insults

Lying by omission

But I didn't give up any of them

They were too ingrained in my world

Critical aspects of my being

And I introduce myself many ways, but there is a lot that I miss

"This is my name, and I look in the mirror once an hour"

"This is my name, and I think I got an A in history last semester because I stared the professor down whenever I disagreed with him"

"This is my name, and I usually forget to tell people I'm bisexual because I'm busy telling l them I don't have feelings"

Is that a lie by omission?

I spend a lot of time at church and there's a lot I don't know

But I don't think my God is a god of dishonesty

There is a lot I don't know

But I have heard that my God is a god of love

And I may not be Discipline, but I know that I am Certainty

And I think that a God who is made of love

A God who created love

And who, I'm told, created us to love

Would not have created us wrong

Have created me wrong

Created me to love wrong

I finished a bag of salt and vinegar chips while writing this poem

And I will probably sleep past ten tomorrow

Even though my alarm goes off at nine

And my god won't love me the less for it

But I have heard that love must come with honesty

And that I cannot love people and continue to forget to say anything

And the truth is that I do forget

That even if I never fall in love—and I might not—

I do love

And in the interest of honesty,

Maybe this Lent I will give up forgetting

To the chivalrous men in your well-tailored armor

I thought about apologizing for this poem

Then I thought about every article I've read about women apologizing too much.

I am not angry, but I am not sorry.

To the chivalrous men in your well-tailored armor

Do not call me oversensitive

I am not.

In your false passion/reason dichotomy,

I am cold as rock.

When the women go to the salon for manicures and gossip

Because centuries upon centuries of gender stereotypes and private sphere bullshit have given them that role

And then mocked their petty lives

When they watch romantic comedies and bake cookies together

To get over the men who broke their hearts

Because they have been taught that men break and women are broken

And all that heteronormative active/passive garbage

When they sit in their book clubs and talk about people and feelings

I will be long gone

So don't call me oversensitive.

Do not tell me these are isolated incidents

That I've let this whole thing get to my head

Need to take a step back

I have stepped back so far, all I can see is the big picture

And let me tell you about institutional oppression

There are no isolated incidents

Do not tell me that women's issues are simply none of your business

I recognize that you don't feel responsible

I don't hurt women, I respect them, I protect them

I understand that nobody thinks this is their fault

But this is everyone's business

And the next time I hear you tell someone to man up

Or defend your definition of chivalry

Your duty to protect the fragile female

(I know you don't believe you think I'm fragile)

I will remind you how responsible you are

Do I look like I need your protection?

Don't call me oversensitive

And the problem is this

I believe you when you tell me

I would never touch someone without asking

Damn straight you wouldn't.

I believe that you trust my knowledge and intelligence

Without doubting me on the grounds of my

Natural incapacity for higher thought

But sir

Every time you have noted that someone's skirt was too short

Shirt was too low

Mocked her for wearing what she wants

Agreed with an authority who told her not to distract the boys

As if their distraction is her fault

You are blaming a victim.

For every time you excused oppression

It's a cultural thing

Maybe that's just how things work over there

In that part if the world

For every time you have laughed at a prostitute joke

Read an article and said

She should have known not to walk alone

Not to visit that part of town

Sir that is rape culture.

You are still a perpetrator.

But this isn't about rape

Every time you say

It's a guy thing

I just don't understand women

Women are naturally more risk-averse. It's their maternal instinct.

Fuck maternal instincts.

Let's climb a mountain together

Then you can tell me I am risk averse

When you complain about female privilege

About girls who get free drinks

You can take back my drink and give me free birth control

Take back your protection and give me female superheroes

Take back your offer to walk with me in the bad part of town

And stop objectifying us in the first place

Stop judging me if I am not well dressed

And then mocking me when I go shopping

Stop standing up to give me a seat on the bus

And start standing up to give me a seat in congress

So when you and your chivalrous army come around in your well-tailored armor

Only to find that I, too, have shields
And I have been fighting for years

Maybe stick around and look who I'm fighting

Instead of helping me off the battlefield, back into my private sphere

Don't call me oversensitive.

First Rain of the Year

And it pours
And all of us in our thick down jackets and
Warm snow boots
Had nearly forgotten

We had been overcome
By the icicle trees
By long scarves and gloves that were
Never thick enough
By bright blue skies when it was
Too, too cold for snow
And how delighted we had been
When it warmed up to blizzard weather
And we could run outside and trip in the snow banks and
Brush fresh flakes from our eyelashes
Without fearing that our
Nose hairs
Might freeze
How delightful indeed

So we had forgotten about rain
And what devastation!
When at last we awoke
What rude reminding!
As we go out for the first time
To the unmistakeable grey
Above, below, and as far ahead as we can see

We had forgotten the rain
That seeps through the holes in our Converse
And soaks our favorite down jackets
You can hear the shock everywhere
"...feel like a walrus..."
"...home during the monsooon seasons..."
"...wait for summer and flip flops..."
"...SO COLD."
And everyone who had been thrilled by the frozen pond
And those who had begged for the snow to melt
Come together in
Sheer detestation

First rain of the year
And we sit by our windows
And drink the cocoa we had saved
For one final blizzard
"Just in case"
And watch the water flow down the
Twisting sidewalks
Melting feet of snow in hours
And see our fellow students
Shaking off their umbrellas
Adjusting their socks inside their galoshes
Jumping over wide flows of dirtied slush

Every year we forget
Look forward to springtime and sunshine
Forgetting real spring
Forgetting April showers

First rain of the year
And it's barely March

The things she carries

She carries her sorrows upon her back
They cut her like tattoos
And every sad person she's ever met
And every drop of booze

Weighs down upon her shoulder blades
And grates upon her spine
So she assumes there's something more
When you say you feel fine

"I knew a person like you once
Her smile was a façade"
And so she doubts your happiness,
Your honesty, your God

At best she is a critic,
Her perceptions often great
But oh, at worst, how she condemns
How deeply can she hate

So when we make her smile
She's still got plenty to unpack
But when we let her down,
She holds the memory on her back

Alpine

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep
And oh, the secrets that they keep
Between tall firs and hidden streams
Lie long-lost hopes and broken dreams

To think-backpacking on the shore!
Dolphins and seashells! But be warned
Of hurried tides and angry waves
And dark and dangerous sea caves

Madrona trees are well aware
The tall, tall cedars? They don't dare
To reach for the alpine terrain
For they know there's more loss than gain

But naïve us, we trek on through
For blossoms red and skies of blue
What great surprise, and what a fright!
When we discover trails of white

The trolls and fairies could have told
That it's half silver, half fool's gold
The ghost pipes whistle, for they know
The dangers of impending snow

We go through every kind of trail
Through creek and mud, through ice and shale
And when the hill is just too steep
We use a rope and up we creep

Sometimes the fog and cold are hell
But oh, we learn our lessons well
Loud mammals when the sky was black
But not once would we have turned back

So through the forest, bugs in ears
Smoke in our eyes, wet wood and tears
Up on the mountain, by the shore
There's no place I have enjoyed more

Here She Comes

I want to warn them about you
Tell them not to be fooled by your charm
Your intelligence
Your friendly demeanor and fabulous clothes
I want to warn them because I see
They already like you
They already underestimate you
Believe you to be your surface self
I want to shout to them
SHE IS NOT A CHILD
Not because I want to defend you
But because I want to defend them
I want to explain to them
That your lighthearted whimsy is not a phase
That your need to escape cannot be assuaged
Even by escaping
Seeing them see you
To whisper
Watch out boy, she'll chew you up
If only to say, later
Told you so
Because they would not believe me
Not for a moment
I want to tell them they are not unique
That you are always intrigued
Always amused
Always delighted
Couldn't break a heart even if you wanted to
But oh, the hearts you break
I would lie
Sit by them at dinner
Or pass notes in class
She's lesbian
But enamored men don't believe in lesbians
So I'll stick to my front row seat
Reserved as a gift
Season tickets to a series of dramas
Writing notes in the program
Watch out boy

Ode to Home

You say I do not remember

But you never even knew

What do you know of our mountains?

What are apple trees to you?

I remember how the rain comes

In the middle of the night

Doesn't leave for six months straight for

Skies of blue or ground of white

I remember every oyster

That the tide has overturned

And for every one match fire,

I remember how it burned

I remember alpine meadows

Topped with snow in mid July

And I've seen the baby dolphin

I have watched the osprey fly

When you tell me of your cities

How your climate is the best

Wait and learn about my ocean

Spend a year or two out west

I remember foggy beaches

Only stones along the shores

But I'd take the barnacle rocks

Over any sands of yours

Where it's never hot and humid

And it's never cold and dry,

Half an hour from sea level,

I have climbed a mile high

You can laugh at our volcano,

But we have no hurricanes

And no lightening in mid-August

In fact, we've no summer rains

I remember walking barefoot

In the city by the Sound

Eating Thai curry or gyros

By the best fountain around

I can well recall the market

With the downstairs ice cream shop

And that great iconic needle

With the restaurant on top

I remember riding ferries

With the wind right in my face

Eating salmon by the seaside

After a cross country race

You can have your famous cheesesteak

Or your fabulous cream pies

But go west three thousand miles

For a real paradise