Sam Alexandra Rose

Category: Poetry

  • Walk in the Park

    I had a dream we were going for a walk in the park
    because that is what he enjoyed doing.
    I don’t know if that is really true.
    He might have hated walking. 

    They wanted me to come on the walk.
    Mother, my niece, my nephews.
    The kids saw it as a nice trip out.
    Everyone easy-going.
    I was not part of any of their experiences,
    caught somewhere between being a
    sibling and a stranger.
    He mattered too much and not enough.
    Here and not.
    Known and not.
    Mine and not. 

    I didn’t want to go on the walk,
    or be with any of them
    so while they got ready
    I stood in the kitchen for ages
    leaning on the countertop,
    eyes glazed over, my blank stares
    making the refrigerator feel uncomfortable.
    Mother just laughed at me and asked
    why I stood there for so long.

  • Stockholm Weather Report

    The weather in Stockholm is so changeable
    I can’t rely on anything here so
    I must change too
    I don’t even speak half the language.
    The city centre rain waits until I reach
    my room before it pours out its
    promises
    It brightens as it dries, brightens
    after it has tried,
    brightens after it has made a difference.
    Meanwhile I sit conflicted;
    happy to have travelled but looking
    forward to home
    happy to share experiences but
    hungry for being alone with the
    work I long to do.

    I keep forgetting where we are not and
    remembering where we are.
    I hear words that suggest people see
    worth in spending time with me
    But I can’t see why they would.
    I don’t know what they get out of this.
    I don’t know what anyone gets out of me.
    I think I just forgot.
    Self-doubt is so unattractive
    but in my lifetime I must have changed
    from what I promised
    like the Stockholm weather forecast.
    Changed without noticing, changed from
    what I thought I was and now
    I don’t know what I am.

    One day soon I will try something that
    is just for me, and I will succeed,
    and from then on that is all I will
    ever need to do.
    And on that day I will be powerful and
    I will be found, never to be lost again.

  • this is not getting over it

    I can’t let go because it isn’t over
    I can’t let go of something that is
    determined to stick around.
    and if it has formed part of my identity
    that is nothing to be ashamed of
    that is nothing to be concerned about
    that is nothing to be fixed or talked out of
    that is nothing I should try to change.

    this is cemented now
    this has driven me demented long
    enough now
    enough now with the moving on
    it moves with me
    enough now with staying strong or
    breaking down
    whatever I will be, I will be

    I will not let this go because
    this will not let go of me

    Title inspired by “This Is Getting Over You” by Alkaline Trio.

    My mantra today is “hey, at least I wrote something.”

  • Forgo

    my mouth forgoes feelings
    so I can feel everything else
    the roof of my mouth goes numb
    so I can envelop myself
    in self-medication
    a vacation
    for the senses,
    a sensible
    meditation,
    a softening
    of the edges.

  • five minutes

    find a corner
    that doesn’t look
    too grubby.
    s l i d e
    down the wall until
    you are twice folded –
    bottom on the floor, arms
    around your knees
    try to resist the urge
    to rock back and forth
    fail
    let your head fall forward
    close your eyes
    shut it out
    shut it all out
    pull yourself inward
    stretch the aching
    small of your back
    make yourself
    small
    smaller
    smaller
    pretend you have
    disappeared
    just for a few minutes
    just give yourself
    five minutes
    here.

  • Ghost train of thought

    headphone wire
    like IV wire
    like attached to a drip
    like blood transfusion
    like PTSD
    like being tethered
    like being trapped
    like not at work
    like not 2016
    like 2010
    like 2010
    like 2010

  • come alive

    maybe I keep writing about you because
    I am looking for that one sentence I could write
    to make you come alive for me. 

    I realise this would be misguided.
    I know I can’t make you come back.
    It’s just that for me, it feels like
    you were never really here.

  • body ode

    reasons why my body is awesome:

    low blood pressure
    very little trouble sleeping
    haven’t vomited since January 2011
    bones all intact 

    badass scars
    cute dimple at old stoma site
    super-efficient waste disposal system
    tattoos

    clear skin
    soles of feet have a pleasing arch
    mad hair that sometimes looks pretty good
    ambiguously-coloured eyes
    back curves in, butt sticks out
    boobs
    pretty good legs
    GREAT hands
    ticklish
    baby face needs ID for buying alcohol
    can smell onion rings cooking at twenty paces

  • Poetry reading

    Little old me reading a couple of my poems. Rare sighting! I’m running away and hiding now.

  • for the boys who are like big brothers to me

    0. 

    I’ve never known brotherly love.
    I didn’t grow up fighting with siblings
    or learning to ride a bike down my
    street with a mocking grin and a
    steady hand at my side. I grew up
    with the knowledge that there was a
    gaping hole where a boy should have been.
    Where my big brother would have been. 

    But you,
    the boys who are like big brothers to me
    – even the younger ones –
    are always working to fill the gap. 

    I.

    The boy who said I could call him at 3am
    if I needed to. The same boy who dreamt
    I died and called me to make sure it
    wasn’t true. 

    II.

    The boy who can always tell if I’m not okay
    and always checks on me. The boy who
    supports my writing and encourages me. 

    III.

    The boy who goes out to eat with me and
    listens. The boy who I always laugh with. 

    IV.

    The boy who was my inseparable friend
    all the way through school – Sonic,
    Animorphs, Power Rangers, marbles.
    The fiercest loyalty on the playground. 

    The boys who laugh with me even when
    my jokes are terrible. The boys who make
    me feel like I belong somewhere, like I’m
    important. The boys who look after me
    and let me support them, too.
    The boys who will always matter.
    Thank you.