A Loud Voice

 

Sometimes pieces break 

before the needle is threaded all the way through,

like popcorn strung sentences.

He sounds and moves words that give me goosebumps

and make them go away

again.

Rings on the right pinky and ring finger,

he can fist bump from the soul.

He'll never be lost under the sun.

Breath going in and out like everyone does.

Tormented like on elementary school playgrounds

mounted on a calendar to never

be forgotten, but marked

of that preserved time for when 

someone thought less of him...

~Tina Meeks

Perseverance Pt. I

I don't pedestal you

Easy on the eyes and so suave

Your voice itself

each time you speak,

you speak accolades

A voice with paragraphs between breaths 

spilling memories with father telling

stories with intimate details

I don't pedestal you

I admire

the pureness in your voice

The uncontrollable urge to

speak with hands and sway to convey

energy, feeling, time

You bend those things with emotion

and conviction

I don't kneel down to you, trust me

but I like the way you speak on paper

and now that you've shared your echoing tone

it's all I hear when reading your voice

~Tina Meeks

I'm Lost

My brain feels stunted and lusting over

a time that existed as a fragment or a clipping 

from a newspaper found in a box

under the bed.

Dated.

Timestamped in a place

that once was quiet.

~Tina Meeks

 

Sleepwalking

My dreams try to capture you at night

so I wonder if you sleepwalk with 

every desire on your sleeves,

or do you believe you're invisible?

~Tina Meeks

This is What I Think You Are

 

You are a moonless night

the loneliness of a cricket in the brush

and the curtains whipping in the breeze.

~Tina Meeks