Lucky girl, CV2 - The Canadian Journal of Poetry and Critical Writing, Winter 2018

I wish people would quit telling me I can do
whatever I want

I never thought I couldn’t

You’re so lucky you know
            so bursting with luck
A red cherry balloon brimming with magic dust
The gooey white icing on an angel food cake
The silky gloss on the penny you found
That’s what you are

You’re gonna go places
Like Aeaea or Atlantis or Avalon
        You’re gonna have things
Like gilded treasures and
        two savings accounts and
                   more luck

So burdened with luck that my head could
implode from all that good fortune
and pressure and pressure

A red balloon spirals back down to
earth her eager little cellophane body couldn’t withstand the jeers from the clouds
The prods from the wind
             The burns from the planets
                          The cold shoulder from the moon

White icing is always left smeared
on the edge
of the plate
It’s not good for you anyways
they say

And after clinging to your pocket waiting for a clever chance to           shine
the penny looks like all the others
tarnished and brassy and
common

Bad boys, The Antigonish Review, Issue #162, Summer 2010

Sometimes while she scrubs at pots
the steel wool reminds her of their scruffy cheeks
and cigarette smoke reminds her of stale, ashy mouths
which couldn’t have tasted any better

The good ones gave you mixed CDs and smiles
and promises and waited for you
The bad ones gave you parts of their body
and bruised necks and puffy eyes and a rush

The good ones paused at your stoop and only kissed
you politely after they asked
The bad ones rammed their tongue down your
throat and didn’t care even if you said

No.

Not that you ever did
Not that you ever would
Always wanting a bad boy to put his
mouth and his wildness all over you

The innate sexuality of childhood games, Freefall Magazine, Volume XVII, Number 2, Winter/Spring 2008

You never knew when your friend would whip around
bloodthirsty, irritated with time-telling
and suddenly become
the wolf
raise splayed claws and sprint after you
with renewed speed, howling and drooling
until she seized upon the
slowest victim

And what about the one where you squeezed
your sweaty fingers around someone’s
dirty hand and never let go
even when the other team would hurl
eighty pound missiles
eyes stuck squeezed, teeth clenched
until the runner was
pushed down back flat
your wrists moaned and throbbed
but at least the enemy didn’t invade
this time

Do you remember the feeling of being chased
running for your very life
until a hand slashed
at any part of your body and immediately
you were
stiff

frozen stiff

Arms and legs spread as if you were about
to be patted down and searched
until some grimy boy burrowed his head
between your legs
and set you
free