May 17, 2011 at 7:33 pm (Poetry)
Tags: 2011, change, childhood, family, slice of life
Sunlight drips sometimes,
slips into dewdrops
that cling to blades
of toddler grass
trying to grow up
before they grow old.
I realized just this
morning as my little
one tells me “sex
is a silly thing.”
Good morning.
Where are you
growing today?
May 17, 2011 at 7:30 pm (Poetry)
Tags: 2011, childhood, dreams, family, future, memoir, Poetry
When they set an assortment
of trinkets in front of me
meant to determine my future,
my parents expressed joy
when I picked up a
thin, black ink pen.
She’ll be a doctor,
writing prescriptions
to the sick and the needy,
they thought and hoped
for years and years…
the poor things.
I write off no help,
advice or medicine,
no psychotropic this
or cardiovascular that
to help anyone at all,
anyone but myself.
March 27, 2011 at 10:24 am (Poetry)
Tags: 2011, beauty, family, loss, love, memoir, Poetry, response
it was that October morning
when it first smelled like autumn
leaves that once gathered around my feet
like children ushering me to play
but I nudged them
aside gently–
I have somewhere to be,
someone to be with.
My cracked, dry lips still felt
those chocolate-chip cookie crumbs,
the first thing I managed to eat
with hands that did not shiver
after I heard that it was done,
after all that heart clenching, teeth-chattering
unneeded
mourning.
You called me beautiful then;
I reminded you that
you were drugged,
probably couldn’t see straight, since
no one looks good under
hospital fluorescents, but you laughed
and called me beautiful again,
the last time for a long time.
March 24, 2011 at 6:02 pm (Poetry)
Tags: family, friendship, love, memoir, nature, Poetry, slice of life
We run along the shoreline
together and the sands sink
beneath our seeking toes;
Your long eyelashes are wet
with salted water and salted tears
from so much laughing.
We throw our songs
upward for the sky to
catch and hold onto for us,
so it may rain back down
when we need that cerulean
melody again to keep us together,
when miles and miles split
our bedroom walls apart
and we cannot dream together.
I’ll miss you, little one.
I will love you, little one.
Please don’t forget my simple words.
January 9, 2011 at 9:29 pm (Poetry)
Tags: 2011, character study, family, loss, Poetry, slice of life
Starlight spells cast on the
arch of genesis, we were
sorcerer, sorceress,
some gender-neutral word
hanging in the twilight
we reached for.
He muttered incantations
to repel the silence
between us and the stereo we spent
too much time fiddling with in the
pocket of one hour,
forty-six minutes.
I wanted to step on it, to
stop, speed past
the monotony which comes when
we try to replace
witchcraft for love.
“Let me move”,
I whispered. Comets passed.
I stepped on the pedal; nothing went.
“I want to go back,”
he said. The comets slipped away.
Stranded at this yellow light,
the moon grew pale before us.
