But that's not how it works

by amy sharp

Sometimes we just have to stand beside a certain person and get it. Get what? That feeling that is the moon. Or the heat from the sun. Or a three-beer buzz. Skin prickle. Calm and frenzy. All the feelings condensed into that thing you can't even mouth. You can only feel. When I was a little girl my grandmother's neighbor was named Hutch and he smelled like a pipe and wore enormous overalls and I loved him like a banjo sounds. I loved him like sticky pancake syrup and it was the first time I knew I could just stand by someone and get it.  All the feelings. I knew you could bask in someone else. People make my clock turn. My dials spin. My hope bellow. You are one of them. Sometimes if you're lucky you can have a few at once and walk down the street and really believe that we have a reason to be here. That the earth won’t spin so fast and we will remember who we are. Maybe I could take that energy and light up the city with it. Make a windmill. Power up and never fade away. 

Danny Boy

by amy sharp

We were in the North of England with a friend and we had a proper holiday party at his mother's home with king prawn and big beers and Irish whiskey in tiny cups. And we wore the colored thin paper Christmas hats and let the back door swing open to hang our heads out and smoke cigarettes that came in packs of ten. And the cold air licked our smooth faces and we shivered towards midnight.

Music was all over the house but eventually we all stood in the small kitchen together singing songs we all knew. The floor was tiled and my heels made loud clicks like clocks on mantles when I sang Oasis to the man that I had just given my heart.

And then the mother of the house pressed her fancy dress 
pushing on her ample bosom and smoothing all the way down to her knees
before she opened her mouth
and sang out "Danny Boy" and silenced us all
and her lipstick was smudged and her curls wet against her face
and she was beautiful and soft and real

she sang it with the confidence that clearly comes from the years of a mother
she was in her home and her dress was smooth
and her guests were drunk and full and happy
and she sang it out like an angel and I can remember feeling so very
in the moment

her son
our friend
he looked at her the whole time
he could not take his eyes from her
and I clocked it then
in my memory bank

She's on the back of my neck today.
Shiver hairs when I heard the song out on the radio.

If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me

And there just are not enough moments in life where we are so fully in the moment.

So fully into the air of someone else
that we can hardly breath


sure I waste poems on you

by amy sharp


sure I waste poems on you 
but I also get to write it down
pour it out
slap it around a little bit
in my mind
some people just have let things fester
bubble bubble shit is trouble
but I just tell my finger tips 
to push is out
this is how it is
the only way it has ever been
and someday soon
one keystroke too many
it will all be done
I will write myself

I will write myself right.



by amy sharp

you are like the rain
on my mouth
as I walk the wet streets
the biggest droplets
heavy enough
to fall 
under gravity
land on me
I wipe my face
I am a part of the sky



by amy sharp

even my mother calls me and asks me
what's the matter
nothing I whisper in the phone
listen lady
this is my blue period
my monochromatic heart pumps muted colors
I am right under the surface 
I look blurry
the post office worker looked at me
with a tilted head today
is it all across my face
I get worried people can read my thoughts
I'm taming tigers
I'm fighting you
with my fists

by amy sharp

leaving poems in the street
on top of cigarette machines
places you may know
the sun licked my heels all the way home
and I never turned around



by amy sharp

I had coffee with a familiar stranger recently and was told a marvelous story. It started like all good stories do with love, or at the very least, the idea of it. The blood pumping kind of love that makes you feel alive.  And when she opened her mouth more of that energy kept coming out and I had to push my wooden chair back ever so often just to feel like I wouldn't get swallowed up. Because that's what happens to us all if we allow it. I won't tell you the story but I'll let you feel what it's like to get swallowed up. Dunk your head in cold water and scream. Look in the mirror and never recognize yourself. Run a hot bath and drown. 

some women

by amy sharp

"Some women are
lost in the fire.
Some women are
built from it."

— Michelle K., Some

this is the smallest sigh

by amy sharp


press your mouth to my face 
remind me again 
when I got lost 
I want to feel your air
heat up my cheek
I want you to 
tell me
and nothing
all at once



by amy sharp


you told someone about me because I didn't fit in your mouth any longer I was like smoke that needed expelled and I curled up up up like a stream above you when you circle the rim of a glass with your wet finger you can make a sound when you listen for the words that would change everything you almost never hear them





by amy sharp

there is not enough water in the world to put out my fire
bring me my pencil and I'll make you a list
of all the things I want you to do to me
can you imagine some people just stop
burning bright
some people forget
how to be consumed