tupperware poetry

The back of my mind is a freezer
you never know what you'll stumble upon--
cake left from the perfect birthday, frozen dumplings for nights when
cooking feels like drowning

it's fun, if you're in the mood
pluck out three things and
find their meaning,
try for a meal

I try for poems,
mix-and-match with moments and metaphors,
frozen peas and leftover fish,
taking inventory in spiral-bound notebooks

do words ever expire? do feelings grow stale?

poems have no ingredient lists
they come from everywhere
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TreePupWriter

VT

17 years old

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  • By TreePupWriter

    Hold Music


    Her hands clutch the cell phone and
    fiddle with the corners of the case.
    Feet fidgeting under the desk, stuffed into socks and shiny flats.

    She did not ask her phone to bring her an orchestra,

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  • By TreePupWriter

    Recalibrate

    I still need to learn that I am not the very worst.
    That I am not the only one with actions to regret.
    That people don't walk by me thinking, She must have been cursed.

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  • By TreePupWriter

    Sunken dime

    I was fearless. Untouchable. Knew who I was. What I wanted.
    “Life is hard”? Yeah, maybe for
    some but
    not for me.
    I had it all figured out.

    There wasn’t much I needed to wish for, but the act of it was fun.

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