I Am No Poet

My eyebrow drips off in the shower

I feel the water around

and I look at my hands

and I think about my grandma

not the sane one

but the crazy one

the one whose mind melted and tumbled out

she shit her pants in the car

and I stuck my head out trying to breathe

people say that I’m just like her

that’s where I got my creativity

and some other things too

Nobody knows for sure

Am I really an artist

is she really an artist

Are we any different

is she me and I her?

maybe she’s her grandma

and her grandma is her grandma before her

and maybe we are all one grandma

in a big line

we take over the world

all the grandma‘s

I don’t know if my art means anything

I don’t know how to use it

I don’t know how to write poetry

I don’t really know how to do anything at all

but I do know that

the way the light hits the grass in the morning

when the dove is the only thing

that I need to see

other than my lovers hand

the way it’s pink

the way, his knuckles crease

when they hold mine

the way my best friend‘s eyes glisten

in the sunlight

they’re not brown

They’re all colors

there's orange

there’s green

there’s white

and there’s blue

and it all melts into one

big hue

Maybe I’m not an artist

and maybe I’m not a poet

because I don’t know how to use commas

but maybe I am

and maybe we all are

maybe we are all one

maybe there’s no God

maybe I am God

maybe it doesn’t matter

maybe I’m just in the shower

and the water is dripping

and it made me believe

for just one second

that you were me

01/06/26