friendship - Jean M. Hodges

I’m Never Sure What to Tell You, a poem by Jean M. Hodges

I’m never sure what to tell you when you talk about sex

I advise caution, I advise consent

I suggest marriage and love and finding yourself first.

But things don’t happen in a straight line,

And armoring you for battle matters more than keeping you in a tower to yourself.

To myself.

So, if I don’t know what to tell you, I’ll tell you the truth,

You don’t have to be perfect, I just hope that you’re safe.

A warmth and a tingle between your thighs isn’t Hell you’ll burn yourself with,

And I know that we sometimes regret the food we put on our plate.

But you should always have the choice whether or not to eat,

Always have the choice of when to stop chewing.

I’d rather you have strong teeth

Than to never gather cavities.

Admire yourself, fawn over your skin, and love your womanly hips.

But let yourself still be a child, leave room for your own youth.

Not because purity comes from keeping your legs closed,

But because bruises come from trip ups,

Cuz mess-ups make good lessons,

Because whomever you decide to lay with (and does the same with you)

Doesn’t that make you a bad person.

Now, my love, all I know is to tell you the truth,

Do whatever the hell you want, but take care.

There’s monsters out there.

THE END

Original publish year: 2017

(c) Jean M. Hodges

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Open Ocean, a poem by Jean M. Hodges

When you live in the ocean, it’s hard to notice all the salt floating in the water

When you’re shipped on the ocean, it’s hard to remember when your human when they’re too busy putting us in boxes to notice

But then we got louder, and showed off our colors and had the audacity to be so bright and pretty on a white canvas that we bothered people for with our fluorescence

And now some of us are considering washing out the paint, because it’s making it to put bullseyes on our backs

“Are you ok?” I ask. And my best friend’s text buzzes as soon as we all get the announcement , as if this is the last letter he can send me before they send him off to a concentration camp with a pink triangle branded on his body

“I’m gonna burn a flag today”, he said cheerfully, as if discussing morning coffee

“Fuck, ok, man. “ I say. “Well, good luck making bail. If I’m sold out before that, you’re staying there.”

We laugh cuz we’re drowning. We met up cuz school is still there. We hug cuz we keep each other up.

“What the hell do we do now?” My buddy asks, just trying to fill our space with air, just trying to keep his smile bright and his head above water. And I shrug.

“Brownies?” and he laughs becuz we’re both on this island we made together, hoping against hope this pile of dirt will stay afloat