it is not as if I kept a list

00lacytree

it was snowing a few days before Christmas
and he put his jacket around my shoulders
the smell of leather, a memory, rose
between us
in the clouds from our mouths

the snow looked like diamonds in my hair
he said, and kissed my forehead
while I finished my story, about
the one that got away, the one
that broke me in two for ten months–

he laughed a little at the end
and I shrugged, running a block ahead
while he picked up his jacket
brushed it off
and tried to make sense of me

catching up he grabbed my arm
and I pulled it away
then he called me sweetheart
and I stopped. ‘didn’t you break some hearts
back then?’ he asked–

I turned and smiled, and
he handed me his coat
putting my arms into the sleeves.
I held his hands

‘yeah I did, didn’t I? huh, I had forgotten,’
I said–
and we walked through the park
until it stopped snowing, until
we had run out of memories to tell

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Monday Random: Thanksgiving is (was)

  • great leftovers
  • a healthy dose of family guilt
  • overdose on stuffing and green bean casserole
  • lack of affection for poultry for the next two months
  • a lot of dishes
  • few offers to help with said dishes
  • joy at seeing what the next generation is up to
  • old pictures
  • old stories
  • Continue reading “Monday Random: Thanksgiving is (was)”

I took the Christmas tree down

I am sharing this out of season, an Easter poem I wrote a few years ago, as we were adjusting to our empty nest.

I wanted to share it with Harry Miller at Yellow Crane in the Rain. You should visit his blog. This is one of my favourite posts:
https://yellowcraneintherain.blog/2018/09/06/in-situ/

Are You Thrilled

on Holy Thursday, because I promised it would not be there
to look at on Easter morning. Dinner, notwithstanding
the ham and sweet potatoes would resemble our Christmas dinner
our eyes on the lovely tree in all its glory
the ornaments shiny and calling out to us, rejoice-celebrate-

Though now they mock us-drinking a toast to grandmas deceased, and
burn the roast and put out the candles, but they have no right
to judge us, those self-serving props of Santa Claus
on that holiest of holy days to look at our slips and slights, and
tell the neighbors, look their lights are up past epiphany

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altered chords

this morning
six days before Christmas
beat poetry and jazz
run through my veins
like homemade caramel

do you judge me
for how well I groove
in the middle of my pain? From
somewhere
a cornet holds the note

I don’t dig frigid weather
but there is
something cleansing
about the other extreme
of the spectrum

how my body
had melted into July
and now when I walk outside
my organs have blended
with blood and water

and a tune that keeps me
walking on

Monday Random: potpourri

  • I’m using this Monday as a do-over from last week. Last week sucked balls. And you know I never use that language. But seriously. Sucked. Donkey. Ba…..well you know
  • In all fairness much of the crappiness of last week was my own fault so I’m done complaining. But that felt good and circumvented hours of whining to the husband which would start off another bad week and we don’t want that, do we
  • Question: what do you do to calm and soothe yourself? You’ve got your yoga and eating the ice cream from the container with a spoon approaches. But do you do anything quirky for your decompression time?

Continue reading “Monday Random: potpourri”

I took the Christmas tree down

on Holy Thursday, because I promised it would not be there
to look at on Easter morning. Dinner, notwithstanding
the ham and sweet potatoes would resemble our Christmas dinner
our eyes on the lovely tree in all its glory
the ornaments shiny and calling out to us, rejoice-celebrate-

Though now they mock us-drinking a toast to mothers deceased, and
burn the roast and put out the candles, but they have no right
to judge us, those self-serving props of Santa Claus
on that holiest of holy days to look at our slips and slights, and
tell the neighbors, look–their lights are up past epiphany