South Dakota

barefoot and goofy, we launched into field
yelling warnings about prickles
after the sound of whooshing cars and the flashes of headlights faded
far, far away
we unzipped the sleeping bag
we huddled in close
silent and aware of hands and feet
we looked up at the bright

promise me

needing coffee
needing a word
remind me this
is worth it
promise me
it’s worth it
because waking
is sometimes hard

poetry class

poetry class was hell
because you sat across from me
and most days you skipped anyhow
we all sat in a circle
to feel metaphors together
and I rolled my eyes
trying to separate from dishonesty