Backyard Sessions Volume 1

Backyard Sessions Volume 1

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Backyard Sessions Volume 1 *

1. Daddy’s in the backyard again

2. Out in my backyard

3. The sprinklers noise

4. Pumpkin stares at me

5. Chasing bubbles

6. My deck is small

7. Pebbles underfoot

Daddy’s in the backyard again

My mommy and Forrest are always around when they are home

My daddy spends time in the backyard

My mama and sissy are always around 

Dada isn't; he's outside

My husband gets high and writes in the backyard,

Ignoring us as the Star Jasmine grows

At least he’s not doing it in the garage anymore

I told my daddy it smelled like smoke when he was on the potty

Dada’s beard *he turns his face over his shoulder, repulsed*

I’ll smoke until the hydrangea stems droop like sad giraffes 

I’ve asked him if he thinks other people think it smells like weed back there 

I don’t mind it as long as it’s in the backyard

Out in my backyard

Trailers rattle louder than you’d think, Boyd Rd.

From my backyard, I’ll roll a joint and think everything is fine

I’ll type, handwrite, and paint all day long

My family could join me

I’ll lie on the grass

Street noise and squirrels scaling trees

The sound the sun makes in my backyard

That high-pitched tone of the birds—I think they’re young ones

Quiet time

I'll sit with my shirt off and a dumb hat on my head

I follow the ants, watching their highways

We battled for two weeks

I wiped out thousands of them —black puddles of ants

We hired professionals to eradicate them

They poked their heads out a needle-sized hole on the windowsill and saw their dead comrades stuck to a glob of poison glue

Marching to death like the rest of us

It's good to be king of your own little town

The sprinklers' noise

They’re spastic

Stuttering like a water pik 

They make me feel sorry for all the people

I have so much more—we take such long showers, but

dammit, there are yellow spots on my grass

One sprinkler that doesn’t go down

And their tubes sunbathe on the topsoil, which we chose instead of mulch—vanity

What does Sound think of my existence's music?

The garden is my sprinkler 

It shoots water that sounds like delete

on my keyboard

the tap of delete

over and over again

watering my grass

Pumpkin staring at me

On this metal table, next to an umbrella and a 

Mason jar wrapped in gauze with two googly eyes glued on it

Under all of these elements

Its rainy season

Others, like you, are dead

From this influx of cold feelings and wet grass that 

grabs the tires of an Amazon truck and destroys itself

I could spin this pumpkin around, and it looks the same from all angles 

Has a stem like a walrus tusk

Dammit, I won’t throw you away, pumpkin

the sun and rain haven’t beat you yet

I’ll let you live; just answer me this

My daughter sees a lantern. I cannot see it.

Do you?

Chasing Bubbles

I am an ashtray filled with chewed gum, a dozen roaches, and this morning's rain

I am made of glass and am the shape of a skull

I smell like sweatpants that have stains on them

The children dance in circles with their heads back

Half-moon smiles on their faces

Laughing in the pop of bubbles

on their fingers, noses, and feet

I’ve been navigating this binge since April in this backyard here

Before, I was spending all this time sinking into wet grass, sticky feet carrying stones from the pebble paths 

The kids were yelling more bubbles, and I was in the backyard, and I couldn’t move well because it was all a blur
*sighs*

I’m thinking of two separate dates - 

I'm in the backyard, and it’s now 

The other was a year ago in summer

In the backyard as a family, chasing bubbles

My deck is small

I’ll play with the paper

A puddle of what I can pull from my heart

And when I turn the page,

The things drain, and my blank is empty again

At least we have control over the little things

the lead in our pencil 

Before we tiptoe across the arch of each cloud and flush

Pebbles Underfoot