1. Worry Warts
There should have been better places
to store our worn down worries
but the cupboards had cups in them
and the socks drawers were full.
The lingerie drawer had space but smelled musty
with both our underwear ratty and discolored.
Eventually we had them stitched into our skin
and the worries plumped through like welted mountain ranges or skin worms.
Our friends thought we'd contracted something and de-friended us.
People on the bus got off several stops too early.
The neighbors never came out anymore.
After a while we worried that we'd become unlovable.
In the mirror we saw how hideous-looking
we were, covered with centipede skin.
And so it came to pass that our fretting was worth it,
we had had good reason to worry after all.
2. The Palm of Your Hand
is not where your future sits,
waiting to be read,
nor is it a place for tracing wishes
but rather the soft-sided part
that should have my face in it
instead of his.
3. The Photos That No Longer Look Like You
We can all whittle.
Now, our soft stories have become strong
played in step with the lapping waves
days of beer and bleachers, band,
seasons when the
beckoned us to be bold
to each pouting petal of
our burgeoning youth.