“We call themchair
thigh peg chairs”
I tell her,
speaking to
and in spite of
her smallness.

Sharing vocabulary
from the other side:
booth bulletins
cushion updates
reports on
seat depth and

– Newsflash! –
chair arms that
discomfit while dining
leaving bruise-like marks
on ample thighs
branded thighs
already varicosed thighs

of airline seat-
belt extenders
immobile arms that cut thighs
theater seat arms that
wedge, mark
take the fun out
give an edge to these recreational
pass times.

I wonder sometimes
‘Why do I go there?’
‘Do I forget?’
Fact is
normalcy tricks me
beckons to me
seduces me.

Am I misshapen or is it the chairs?

See here (4/26/14)

See here
look in my mouth
can’t you see?

No words.

I’m holding things in
it’s getting crowded inside
all unspoken

My mouth
yawns empty
screaming hollow
trying to give you a clue

I want you to ask me
push me
pry at me

Help me release this torrent
choking me

Fill my aching mouth

Look  here
see my empty mouth

And speak to me, friend.

Family strife (4/25/14)

I was there, steady at my oars

the whole time

that’s what shook me up.


Before, when storms

of others beat me down,

I would break and drown.
Oddly unsettling to remain whole

while roughly swept by his carelessness,

dashed by her struggles.


Familiar agonies

shipwrecks of souls,

been tossed here before.


Jarring to rest quiet

beneath crashing waves

of sister, brother, family.


No need to recover, start anew;

there was no break,

my stroke was steady.


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