Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
Left behind in that subtle way, as if someone took a photograph of me as I once was, and hung it up on their wall in frozen perpetuity.
By Chloë J.11 months ago in Poets
I let it run right through my hands, Ignore the men and their commands. Their aim is steady, as am I, My heartbeat sure, steel in my eye.
Life has become a collection of used-tos, the emptiness of the once upon a time collecting dust on the mantle of my heart.
It was the same when I learned I needed glasses. Not in the darkness of the optometrist’s exam room, where he made the letters blur and unblur at will,
The loneliness is close today, A supple cat, that winds its way Between my legs, as if to say, “Lest you forget, I’m here to stay.
Such silly, vital things, our names, So cunning on the tongue! The sound of mine will quickly bring Me coming at a run.
What comes to mind when you hear the phrase “foster care?” Pause, and think for a moment. And be honest. What did you think of? A broken system? Overcrowded? Baby snatchers? Child abuse? Adoption fast track? Maybe something else-something worse?
By Chloë J.11 months ago in Families
I want to peddle folklore, to tenderly weave into being new stories / pulsing with life, dripping with ache and dimensions;
I. Reaching, stretching, seeking with my cracked and bleeding fingers, Striving, still, to catch a moon-web while her presence lingers.
A poem a day for the month of May; what self-loathing idiot came up with that? Who in their right mind would try to force
I knife through the world, all prickles and efficiency, cutting so deep, so quick, that the blood waits politely to fall.
How neatly they have packaged the earth! With countless bags of plastic, they have commodified the loam, the pulsing, sensuous,