Monday Poems: Apollo

This week’s Monday poem is called Apollo by Emily Palermo.

The sun inside of him
rages like wildfire
and he is
gold
gold
gold
and he is
scorching the skin of my heart,
yet still he pretends
that he is safe for me to love,
that his hands are gentle,
that his fingerprints won’t be
seared into the notches of my spine.

The sun inside of him
could set the kingdom ablaze;
he knows this, he does.

And he still asks me to love him,
to face the flame.

Find me in the ashes.

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Monday Poems: How to Survive

Hello! It has been months since I last posted a Monday poem. During my hiatus I did not feel like sharing much, but I am here now. This week’s Monday poem is called How to Survive by Kristina Haynes.

It’s like an affirmation speech. Something you recite every morning in front of a mirror before you start your day. Some parts of it echo so much of how I was feeling before I sounded self-help-y and you know what, I’m not even appalled to say that I used to be the person I told myself I wouldn’t be. What’s more important to me now isn’t how great the facade is or how much I am winning the non-existent lover’s game but how I pick myself up when I reach dead ends and how ‘stronger’ I am becoming. Something like that.

Peel yourself up off the bathroom floor
and stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself.
It’s not like it’s Valentine’s Day and you have
no one to love. It’s been months and you’re still
waiting for someone to kiss you but this is not
the worst that you’ve been through. You always
said you were going to do better so start doing
what you want. Wear more red. Cut your hair
like a boy’s or grow it out so long you need
a procession to follow you around and carry it
behind you like a wedding veil. In this body
you sit and sit and wonder who’s going to ring
the doorbell next. You can’t make anyone love you.
In the kitchen your mother mixes salt and sugar
and flour together and you could mess this up
but she’ll still kiss you on the forehead and say things
like proud and responsible and trustworthy
to the neighbors. Let her. Some days the sadness
will be so heavy you won’t be able to feel your hands.
So much happens inside of you that it can be hard
to separate cell division from your paper tissue heart
and you may never remember this feeling again,
but you are the home that you’ve built for yourself.
I know you’re afraid of losing those you love
but don’t you know we have all night.

Featured image source.

Monday Poems: Today Means Amen

It has been a while since I published a Monday Poem and it has been a while since I wrote here. It has been bad and so personal that writing about it here makes me feel guilty and ashamed. I think that was my lowest but I never know with myself.

Anyway the storm had passed but I don’t know how long until the next grey cloud follows me everywhere again. For now, here is one of my favorite poets, Sierra DeMulder. This week’s poem is called Today Means Amen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lV-gqLaipW4 Continue reading

Monday Poems: Nerissa del Carmen Guevarra

matt berninger

This week’s Monday poem is called Tremors by Nerissa del Carmen Guevarra.

Actually, what is left
Is a vague memory that I loved you.

You sit across me
And still my arms know the depth-feel
Of you, weight-density heavier
Than this silence.

Do not worry. They will not move
Like they used to.

Instruments like Geiger counters
Do not need to be in a crack
To feel a quake.

A single tremor multiplied
Can tell the greatest of rifts
Like now.

Across you, I finally understand

The Theory of Continental Drifts:
Ages ago, we were just one island
That had forgotten its shape.