Thrive
a poem about influence
Thrive
In my refurbished Airstream,
I wear the same sustainable
bamboo jersey knit romper
whether I’m in vashistasana
or putting my succulents in hospice.
I have discourse hypersensitivity,
so I had to sign off and now
I rescue another cockatoo
anytime I need distraction.
As long as my breasts stay
like this, my lover will handle
all the documentary footage
of our tiny house lifestyle.
He’s poly-curious, but
I get it. Sometimes I miss carbs
and then I come back to my “why.”
If I had to be online all day,
I wouldn’t have time to spiral
all the zoodles my fans need
to thrive. Being a mom is hard,
I get that, so why have kids?
I think of my pioneer ancestors,
how they would have loved
a passive income stream,
hormonal birth control, the opportunity
to have met me. When I’m ready
for my nervous breakdown,
it will be on my terms; this is America,
where we livestream our freedom
to hurt and call it content.
Thank you to Doree and Kate for having me on the Here for You podcast for a tiny poetry reading of “Thrive” on yesterday’s episode!
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