if you are superman i am lois lane
if you are batman i am rachel dawes
if you are iron man i am pepper potts
if you are the hulk i am betty ross
because monster or man, frightened or brave,
behind every great hero’s a woman to save
and though i do know that i can hold my own
i don’t mind that– i don’t mind that at all

and God said
wake up sleeper;
whether sweet dreams
or wicked nightmares,
subconscious life is near it’s end
for you, dear.
i am tapping your door,
i have opened your blinds;
i am letting the light in
on your shadow face,
it is morning now,
and i must say
good mornings have never been better, love
look at me now, the one who is jealous, love
for you for you for you

it may be frightening to be free
it may be blinding to truly see
but trust me
here’s my hand
take it

step out of bed now,
look out the window
see what i’ve given you
see how i care for you
everything i’ve made for you
i’ve made to share with you
i want some time with you
to sit and chat with you
to laugh and plan with you
because i believe in you

when the way is narrow
the air is cold
i know sometimes you’ll think of home
the comfort you had before
the bed i pulled you from
i ask that you don’t turn back
keep moving forward
but if you leave me
i won’t leave you
i’ll come back tapping at your door
i’ll come back shining at your side
until you cannot continue to deny
until the sun does not just slip in past the glass
but sits beside you

i have chosen you
now come to me
a child’s first steps
need not be perfect
to make his father pleased

wake up beloved

i am a mess today
and i love it

i feel me
in every untamed
and stray hair
with no push up
suck in
flattening
i am free

shrugging my shoulders
to the world
just try to ruffle my feathers
go ahead

you’ll feel the smoothness
the realness
the i-accept-this-ness
of beauty
that strays
from expectation

there’s a part of herself
she sees in old pictures
younger it is wiser
standing in doors that are open

i am and my sister is and my brother is
and my father will always be a road
of many roads

because she could not operate
the machine which moved her forward
she can only understand what is behind
and love love love with a sadness
so golden
you may mistake it for honey
cod liver oil

i am and my sister is and my brother is
and my father will always be a choice
she chose

because love love love
was warm and golden
in an open doorway
that looked like home
when she was younger
and wiser

maybe my problem is
i let the words come out
too soon

maybe they need to marinate
soak in tears or rain or salt water
or the clouds

maybe i am only a poet when
i have been thinking about it for days
instead of spilling it out in a minute
to a blank screen’s white page

i’m loosing all sense like a broken change purse
to drown in the gutter of irrevocable feelings
what a dirty business this loving thing really is

but oh my dear
oh my
aren’t you divine.

trying to forget about you
was completely counterproductive.
like trying not to finish
a completely captivating book;
like trying to pretend i’d never read
the first page, and trying to carry on
as if i don’t care
what happens
on the last.

every year a thread more unwound
on a spool of thread of unknown length
stitched into a masterpiece i do not know how large
patterned into fabric that i still don’t understand;
i just pray the tailer treat me gently
careful not to split me–
for Lord knows i am frayed
in more than one place.

an avalanche of apathy
attempts to contain me
in indiscriminate absence
of thought and feeling

but it cannot be so.

sunlight melts me,
the lake left reflects
the very image
from which i hid.

what grows from under
threatens to sour
before my lips can
touch, i taste.

i am sorry i stored you away
beneath the earth,
beneath my feet,
behind me where i feared to
look and tread again.

i am sorry that i missed your growth
i am sorry that the breeze that blew
us both brought me to turn.

but i am also not.

you are beautiful even before you are complete.
the shame is only that i cannot step backwards;
reconcile what i’ve become
with what i’d neglected.

every month
i counted up the months
since last i heard you
hear me
sing how sweet it is
to be
noticed.