Loretta

She feels close to depth,

Like a necklace, you notice after looking for a while. 

She changes the feeling of the room without meaning to,

Grey suits her. 

Her smile is small and unforced, like it’s just where her face settles.

Arched eyebrows, not to impress anyone.

Eyes with softness, not emptiness. 

She doesn’t remind you of anyone else. 

No earrings, no necklace, the crashing waves of her hair, 

Not trying to be seen, 

And doesn’t demand attention

Silence is her language, 

She understands it as well as speech. 

Thin oval-shaped lips, bottling up words of wisdom

Forehead showing experience more than worry

If she were part of a story,

She wouldn’t be the center of it. 

She’d be the depth underneath,

The part that connects things

And make everything else feel real. 

Like a bluer story, if present.

My Kind of Person

The kind of person who

never knocks on birch wood for luck

The kind of person who

opens a fridge, hoping to see more popsicles

The kind of person who

color codes sourpatch kids

The kind of person who

gets nauseous from cursive

The kind of person who

stops by every mirror they see to check themselves out

The kind of person who

pets their fish

The kind of person who

stays five feet away from mint-chip ice cream

The kind of person who

Thinks eating animal crackers “aren’t vegan”

The kind of person who

Thinks bananas grow from the ground

The kind of person who

Asks for thirds without shame

The kind of person who

Believes that everything is a conspiracy

The kind of person who

Insists that Santa is a woman

The kind of person who

Tries to perform CPR on ants

The kind of person who

Says goodnight to the spiders that live in the corners