freed pubescent girl
finally crawls out of time
into middle age
—Terri Guillemets
freed pubescent girl
finally crawls out of time
into middle age
—Terri Guillemets
my willpower has become
a fraction of what it was—
my sweet tooth is now
much greater than my resolve—
and the laboratory reports
that my blood glucose
no longer measures in
milligrams per deciliter—
but in sugar cubes squared
—Terri Guillemets
All these years
I thought ‘barren’
meant of the womb —
but now my body
has threatened me
with menopause
and I realize it
means of the heart.
—Terri Guillemets
peeling this sweet potato
i can smell the earth
i close my eyes and smile
then cry —
when did i get so removed
from the soil, the land
from simplicity —
the family garden
in grade school
my bare feet on warm dirt
i was so happy
there were carrots
and worms
and life
was carefree —
i finish making soup
do the chores
the day was busy
i am tired —
the nights
when there is time
enough leftover
to snuggle into bed
a little early & read
and i can keep
my eyes open
long enough for it —
this is heaven
simple, free, happy
heaven
—Terri Guillemets
Our bodies are meant
for the sun, the rain
the gusty winds
starlight and moon baths
fresh air and seasons —
so why do we trap ourselves
in indoor cages?
If we can’t hear birds sing
or feel invigorating breezes —
how are we to be refreshed
to heal, to know the world
beyond the borders
of our bodies?
—Terri Guillemets
snakes and worms
squiggles and sperms
phantom insects
crawling, free-falling
—Terri Guillemets
Damnit! I binged
again II day
IV life was hard
and so I
VIII my stress away.
O why do I so of X gorge?
Since turning XL
I’ve been extra large.
—Terri Guillemets
in bed at night his mind had a ferocious imagination
reality and unreality haunted his turbulent brain
the years ticked, an infinite clock of destiny
searching moonlight for the promise of a future
his reveries of heart were coasting on a fairy’s wing
as the world and universe drifted by fantastic shores
but the sea, work, and women — physical outlets —
were his anchor — something old, hard, and soft
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925, Scribner 2004 trade paperback,
Eating a lot of garbage and dessert-obsessive
for several months, I put on a few pounds
— and more.
Waddling is hell, and fat is a problem for the heart
— I’m hungry & in pain.
Waist weight is a cruel joke, and age is no help.
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day, 2000,
to cry is beautiful —
the beauty of one’s pain
leaving the heart
—Terri Guillemets
blackout poetry created from Maud Casey, The Man Who Walked Away, 2014,
After reading countless health books over the past couple of decades, I can tell you it pretty much all boils down to this: Eat plenty of veggies, work, play, rest, and don’t worry.
—Terri Guillemets
A beating heart needs a soul to go with it, or it’s nothing but a machine.
—Terri Guillemets
We thank
on our knees
with folded hands
for full bellies
and fuller hearts
—Terri Guillemets