Two Poems

The Church Pew that Suddenly Appeared in Case it’s Ever Good

The good days 

were when I didn’t know 

what came after T. 

I will never catch up 

I was never meant to 

I’m starting my journal entries with a song 

which takes up the most space in my brain, 

at that very moment. 

Right now, it’s an instrumental from Spike Jonze’s Her 

So I don’t forget what it’s like 

to be 21 and 9 months old. 

That’s important to me. 

For whatever reason. 

I use this journal for more than just talking to God. 

I don’t want my future great, 

great-grandchildren to read it. 

Or to misconstrue my holiness for Godliness. 

Our relationship was built off of some branch 

of catholic guilt. But at that age, I only knew it as fear. 

I forgave him through the results. The cyclical mindset 

of praying away any possibility 

of cancer, death 

of a family member, or hell. 

Praying helped 

I love god 

I love God 

Jesus and Mary too 

And I’m scared 

I have to correct myself if I forget 

to capitalize and then repeat myself 

again and again in case there’s a demerit system 

now there’s written proof. 

Because how else would he keep track 

of all the thoughts. I used to wonder 

where this nostalgic emptiness 

comes from, every three months 

life gets more confusing. 

There’s a sense of urgency that only creeps in at 1:43am. And then does it stop when you’re too exhausted to think about it? Is that what your 30s are for? 22 is when you fully know what you have but you can’t be happy yet until you know you’ll get everything else you aren’t entitled to. But you secretly hope you’re entitled to a little bit because you must be exerting yourself for something worthwhile. You anticipate loss because it’s the only thing scarier than the change that never seems to stop. 

You can go to sleep 

Because God loves you.

A Not so Real Janitor and a Preschool Teacher

He looked as if someone had gobbled him up 

and kept him inside, in a janitor’s uniform 

with the wrong name stitched onto the pocket. 

Tentatively you wait and decide 

if you want to be selfish 

and bring him back to a place he may or may not 

remember as fondly as you do. 

Like asking your preschool teacher if they remember you—you wish she just pretended like she did. A narcissistic assumption, maybe. But you’re 10 and still believe in Santa Claus somehow. Her hair looked completely different but you remembered those smiley eyes. Mom tells you she had cancer in between those 5 years and that’s why her memory is spotty. Web MD never said that was a side effect. 

I told Jessica I’ve been more afraid of dying 

than usual these past few months. She tells me: 

We’re all bound to either die of dementia 

or cancer if we’re lucky enough to get that far. 

She said she could tell I didn’t like that answer. 

What gave it away? 

I did ask him. I asked him if his name tag was wrong. 

I started with the first few syllables 

of my name to reintroduce myself 

–and it clicked. 

I was already overwrought with emotion 

and began to cry. He was crying too 

but I’m suspecting for different reasons.