on friday i read my poetry for the first time to the rest of my creative writing class. i was really, really nervous, because i don't normally read my poetry to anybody. i just decided i would force myself to do it; i was proud of what i had written and i wanted to show everybody that i could write. i screwed up some words here and there, but overall, i think it went well. my teacher said it was beautiful and she picked up on everything i was trying to convey. i figured i would share it on here, so here you go:

"party"

I didn't want to bang pots and pans

with a nurse on our couch watching

dick clark on our TV. I didn't feel like

throwing confetti with that van outside,

another nurse on a cigarette break.

I wasn't going to raise a glass to your

atrophy, or toast to your dead neurons

while someone in scrubs wiped your

ass clean, and, I'm sorry, I didn't bring

a fucking cake. I must have forgotten

my party hat, or my year 2004

dollar store glasses when mom called,

when she said she couldn't take care of

the dog anymore, you know, by herself.

I didn't want the doorknob to turn, I didn't

want to blow my kazoo, not with a doctor

in my old room, not when the ball dropped,

or when your lungs popped from heaving,

and I still wonder why the world didn't stop

when hospice wheeled your carcass out of

our house and into

the new year.