CHAN TRIER
RHODES
POETRY
I am a poet before all else.
YOUTH REBELLION
youth rebellion
ode to the white moon stuck in your throat we were so drunk - drunk - drunk thought we were so cool.
our hearts expanded to the beat of the bass only to fall asleep high on cough medicine. abeo, my love our lives are strung neatly, acervus, our teeth stuck in other mouths.
she says father spends his days at the park drinking his moments away adieu adieu — ago eyes drunk off darkness —
boys girls boys; discidium the sunset from half crescents on ur lovers palms
he now sells divines on red lights,
we once removed his eyes, turned into a frog — we weren’t each others princes — nobody wins the ribcage
NATURAL DISASTERS
she catches moths in her mouth: we ate each others lungs when
we couldn’t breathe
our teeth strung out in madness. he looks just like his father, mother now lives in between the 4th and 10th with worms in her eyes.
she asked for a sad song yesterday laughing while throwing her hands into the
air where are u?
i thought about u all day while cleaning my room with red eyes;
theres a fire at school i thought for a second u were there.
i’m just looking for the sunlight in ur hair only to flick through the yearbook to realize u
didn’t change while the others became their own kingdoms wake up!
the cars don’t wait for just anyone
the boy has a knife and earthquakes in his
eyes
LOVERS
my teeth ache.
do yours do too?
our brains are split in half, no longer seeing the other side. we snuck into the school pool and tried to drown ourselves
can we sit crosslegged in the middle of the highway at three am? until our bones crackle in the open fire.
im here for you, only you.
theres no time to get sober again and i know how much you hate to be like him but its nature over nurture anytime
but, in this space i will hold your pain in my chest and your laugh in my throat.
nothing lies here in this bed besides you and my friendly ghost
SERIAL KILLERS
i kissed a serial killer when i was nine i peeled my petals and you trailed your heart across the kitchen floor
a murder in disguise theres an afterparty when you come
home dressed in black with hands smelling like bleach
the night before that
i think to myself: how can someone
who is so familiar seem like a stranger i stared at three drunk girls laughing like they owned the world
but the only queens are the underdogs this isn’t a love story
we aren’t a war mirage
i kissed a serial killer when i was nine or was it a mirror?
ALLUSIONS
it isn’t real
in the crowd i swallowed my nails with stuttering lips
with your arms spread you look like jesus
when a lady is born and died in the hospital does she ever live?
i crossed the border with a cane and three cents
i swear to you i found buddha but nirvana never found me
i can’t accept this i’m a failure listen to me this isn’t real
show me who i am do you even know?
OUR HISTORY
history is an heirloom choking your neck grandmama cleans papas photo with her duster
ode our prayers space age keeps me young
papa didn’t understand guns and gravity
it took me a long time to understand that sacrifice isn’t cowardly
note to self: your history can’t really kill you
A MOTHERS LOVE
when the moon sings my mother weeps
she keeps our father on the mantle near plates of apples
last night it fell off,
i hid under the bed like they told us
earthquakes and tsunamis and fire drills filled with snake eyes
we took a test and failed at the same level - but we aren’t all the same
when the sun sings my mother laughs
i think to myself: if my brother weeps will my mother laugh or cry?
(I HOPE YOU BURN)
the flicker beat of the flames of a car on the edge of the bridge they drag you out in sirens and radio waves
you lost a home that day when the fire settled in your bones
they told you - you gained a kingdom but how does the hum of lighters comfort you
a lover lights cigarettes off your breath and laughed when ashes flickered into your eyes
theres a brown eyed angel in the review mirror; you like to think there are saviors -
but your sin is the greed in your fingertips
amen
WARRIOR
her mother always said she’d burn the world with her rough eyes, textures so stony
they should have stuck snakes on her head and called her a victim
her brother laughs to himself as he shoots another one down while others applause him a hero
she’s still waiting for the day they call her a warrior with tongues sharp as knives
there are bright lights in chest she hopes to one day rip open
elbows slicked in grease
theres no tenderness in her touch
her father said she’d never burn cities down:
her laughter shook the buildings with eyes so bright they proved them wrong
DUST BONES
he sleeps like a sandstorm
a gust of wind with shards of glass
my best friend is a goddess
who builds castles with oceans and thunderstorms
there’s a silent hymn in the background they knock on my door each morning with lavender
eyes
she awakes like a sandstorm
a sunshine with orange flames deja vu knocks on window each morning with clouds of peppermint
we’re not all natural disasters unfortunately i am a calm wave in the middle of the ocean circling shark fins