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Best Poems Written by Gia Chesshir

Below are the all-time best Gia Chesshir poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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My Hometown

Corn stalks dance
In abandoned fields
          Like wispy ghosts
    Without their husks
As children revel tirelessly
Midwestern skies sapphire encrusted.

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Grass In My Pocket

Don’t you remember? That one time
When we were young and adventurous 
We settled on shared breath between
Pine trees and our neighbors oak
Tugging on leaves like they were
All we could afford to clasp

My mom saw us
Hitting each other with sticks
In the chilled South Dakota summer
Like a pair of yokels
In on a joke no one understood
She looked at us firm
Soft white collar hands on her hips
Thin from stress

She told me plants feel pain
I was hurting them
I stared at my bare toes
Wedged in supple grass
And I wondered if you
Also lacked guilt.

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Innocence Persists Beyond My Wake

In my dreams
I am small
Flowers budding
Behind deaf ears
When I leave you
Inevitable in its longing
I wish to be
A grain of sand
In your hurricane
A leaf in your jungle
Hiding ripe fruit
Red as my tongue
Beneath low fronds.

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Back Porch Haircuts

I let you cut my hair.
Whether you were doing well
Or about to make a fool
Of your only daughter
Completely irrelevant
As I focused on your
Darting nervous eyes
The wrinkles in the corners
Tightening with ever pass
Of those clunky barber scissors.
I realized you had no idea
What you were doing,
But I couldn’t bring myself
To pull away from hands
That grasp frantically at love
Like it would vanish if I so much
As peered over my shoulder
At the piles of hair collecting
Between our feet.

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Dad Did Not Quit

Can we talk over dinner?
I’ll be composed,
Salad a middleman
On orange china.
I won’t stare daggers
I’ll only look gently
You won’t upset me
You won’t cry
Tablecloth a barrier
Of polite normalities
No last words.
No hard feeling.
You’ll drift atop
Jello molds,
An angel in suburban hell.
You won’t tell me 
You quit your job,
And our haven
Will remain bubble wrapped.

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All Hail Abby

All hail Abby Jones:
Her sock drawer filled with
Mundane and ordinary thoughts,
Locked in a bunker
Of imagination.
She’s confused.
She doesn’t know who she is.
Neither do I.
She wears tall socks in spring
Because she doesn’t want
To look at her ankles.

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In This River We Drown In Light

In this river we drown in light
A doorway blocked from me
Yet open to dry eyes

I can only hear your hands
Clutching that splintered wood as water
Rushes to ears like war

I cry at the notion
Of you stepping through that white door
Frame as you sip whiskey
In the next room over from me
Tv mumbling comforts

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My Teeth Itch

When you kiss me
Like you love me
It makes my teeth itch
Palms rattle with the force
Of a hurricane
In your childhood room
Shoelaces knotted
Like a noose
Around my brain.

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October Weeds

The kids that sing silently
And the kids that grow like dandelions
Out from St.Augustine lawns
The ones with October-sheltered downcast pupils
That tuck pride into calf-high stockings

They don’t see trouble,
Their heads lifted up towards angelic heavens
Bodies stranded on those cracked-sidewalks.

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Sirens In the Floorboards

I hear the calls
I hear the calls
I hear the calls
Breathy in those narrow streets
Until they slide under my bedroom door
Sirens in the city lurking quiet in
Corners unseen by sunlight
Where love can be found 
As thick as mud under floorboards
Under my floorboards
Under my floorboards