Roots
by Lindsay Geimer
Ever since our talk,
The serious type,
Where you have to find the root of the problem,
and yank them our of the ground
But the roots are buried like those of trees,
Far underground, six feet
Like a grave holding a cold corpse
That the two of you have to dig and dig
To reach
And, every inch of your hands speckled with dark brown dirt,
Your face hot and sweat dropping down, falling off your chin
You say that you were suffocating,
My grasp so tight that air could not inflate your lungs,
My hands were clenched so tightly around your throat
That my knuckles had turned a pale, ghostly white
Your breathing was almost nonexistent, less than a whisper
So you decided to try to disappear like a magician during a
vanishing act
Tried to slip away without a trace or echo, no footprints left in
the grass to follow
I say I know I was grasping on to you too tightly
Because my hands ached from the strength it took to not let go
But I wasn't just going to let you slide away,
Like melted butter through a clumsy child's hands,
Like a bandit with money he stole from a bank,
Losing you would've been waged,
Innocent people dead because someone got butthurt
I still learned to loosen my grip,
Cease the aching in my hand,
You can breathe fresh, free air again
Your lungs so easily refilled
With long, deep breaths,
Almost sighs of relief
Even though it makes my mind race
And my blood pump,
A cheetah running at full speed,
And you, you have learned to stay,
Sit still, a child after a scolding
Ever since our talk our communication
Has been consistent,
An alarm clock ringing every single morning,
Dragging those still asleep from their sweet slumber–
Will it be a long-lasting,
A tree with bright green leaves and a wide, sturdy trunk,
Roots imbedded deep in the dirt,
Or will I start to grasp too tightly once again,
While you feel weight of air leaving your lungs,
Killing the tree we planted together?
Innocence
by Lindsay Geimer
My niece dances around our living room avoiding
bumping into the soft brown couches
and coffee table that I consistently stub my toe on
I don’t remember dancing as a kid
I have been told about the night terrors
that haunted me while I slept when I was 3
Something to do with monsters chasing me, snarling
and showing sharp fangs and ugly yellow claws
that could slice you into pieces with little effort
if the monster decided to use you as a meal
Like some men now do with women
*
No one tells you that when you are a kid that it’s not the imaginary monsters you have to worry about It’s the ones right in front of you, using human flesh as a damn good disguise The ones with slimy skin With faces that change features as much as they change their personalities Who whisper worthless, insecure, ugly, unlovable right in your ear so you can feel their hot breath against your skin The words crawl under your skin like bugs No one tells you about demons raging inside you doing the haunting even in daylight Maybe I’m the monster But I just said I was an angel half an hour ago Fallen angel, whose wings are shabby, stained with all the sins committed in the mere 18 years of life Not all belonging to me Innocence really is the best It saves you from knowing that another murderer has struck again in another city where crime rates increase daily Saves you from having knowledge that as a girl you should always have some protection on you, even if it’s just pepper spray, like mine that’s hooked onto my gold dorm key
*
Deadbolt the door when inside
When outside
Don’t walk alone Safety in numbers
Be observant Be careful
And don’t ever go out at night
*
At night I talk to the moon because it’s the only thing that understands me
Another thing I did as a kid
Some things stay the same
While others don’t
We both change with each passing day that exhausts us until we are nothing
but a black hole where the space was once filled with light
The water bottle has been empty for days
yet it’s still on my nightstand God,
I wish I was in the ocean, waves roaring and
crashing with the power of Poseidon, enough to knock
over kids as well as adults
The sun’s light
traveling hundreds of thousands of miles, maybe even millions,
just to touch my skin, warm it up like a microwave
heating up leftover pizza from last night
Let’s take a drive I’m miles away while we drive
drive drive We drive
into the mountains and only come back down after stopping
in the small town at the top of hill for ice cream
On the way down we talk about the lifecycle of the leaves
with the 5 year old Everchanging.
About the Poet:
"My name is Lindsay Geimer. I am currently an English Major at New Mexico State University. The goal of my writing is to connect with all types of readers despite their backgrounds. When someone reads my work, I want them to feel included and give them a sense of belonging and community. Relating to others is a key factor for humanity and its survival. Another goal is show that everyone has the same type of experiences with thoughts and emotions, even if they are presented differently or are from different backgrounds. Other than writing, I enjoy reading, card games, and watching tv/videos".