My Valentine

Snowy Valentine.jpg

The light in here is too bright for morning
the sunrise peachy glow distorted and squinting
our distinctive beginning comes to me at the same time
both warm and cuspated

knowing your love still exists helps me to
keep on, keep on, and knowing you still love me
bids me not give up

The lights in this room are too dim to read by
in the evening, the aroma of sausage, with its
fennel and thyme, and the acid of tomatoes
keeping things real

the streaks in the sky at sundown leaving
little illumination to stir the sauce pot, little to the
imagination of a pair of love thieves in a jam

And some days we don’t take the time, even to
let eyes meet, but we continue, and
knowing your love still exists
helps me keep on, keep on

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carousel
of random thoughts
carry me
past this place
into our first apartment
our noisy haven

with a date
written
into my notebook
and your eyes seeking mine
for the first time in a decade
I can sleep now

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

To the busy housewife

that set the house on fire
that sought life
and found it was a tomb
the full glass spent
and saw no sun
the revels of youth
melted into air

Feast on thy dish of pain
how women on tv do
this insubstantial
pageant of cares
sleep beyond the grief
old before thy time

demand of it
sunlit, nutritious words
drowsy tinklings
rise! rise!
laughter humming
with flatt’ry’s tides
the owl with his honour
homeward. solemn.

be stubborn o’er thy
homely joys
an anthem swells
rise! rise!
craz’d with love
don’t wander, dreaming
the longing years

you understand
arrays of complex friends
heavy baggage agreed upon
in the same old place
who shall quarrel
in the dark again
thy sunlight outposts
the humming-bees rhythm
the song of life and death

now to live now to run
the fabric of thy towers
leave not thy vision
behind


A word collage, or cut-up poem from this source material

Monday Random: compromise

A reprise of a Monday Random post from 2017, which applies directly to the wounds of this past weekend, real and imagined, and no, I will not explain that right now. Thank you for reading.

Are You Thrilled

  • I make my husband happy when I don’t talk during the news even if something makes me want to monologue
  • He makes me happy when he watches one of my old movies and doesn’t complain about the sound or the lame sets
  • I go to every Star Trek movie, sometimes on opening night
  • At some point he stopped saying things about my family that were sore spots
  • He went to the church I picked
  • I make pizza ten times more often than I’d ever eat it, and I learned how to make pizza crust like a New Yorker
  • I learned how to make cheesecake like a New Yorker though I could go the rest of my life without eating it
  • He’d rather the mayo not touch the cheese on a sandwich, and I respect that
  • He reads all my manuscripts and gives honest feedback
  • I’ve been going through menopause for…

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Monday Random: crunch time

  • How do you act under stress?
  • Do you take it out on others or do you internalize the struggle?
  • Do you simply get to work and work doubly hard to complete the task well?
  • Do you crumble and cry in a corner?
  • The time for the craft show has come. It should be that craft show, or this craft show, but it is simply dubbed ‘Thee craft show’, which I think is a mistake now, considering expectations and hopes riding on one day
  • Everyone knows you rarely break even on the first show
  • If it rains, all bets are off
  • We keep coming back to the calm place and saying, it’s okay if we don’t make money the first time (lies, all lies)

Continue reading “Monday Random: crunch time”

Communion

august roses.jpg

 

In the hot car
that damned a/c we never fixed
I pull my hair back and twist it
impaling the knot with chopsticks
wiping my forehead with a napkin
The heat is oppressive

And the tension
of what distracted me in church
from hearing the gospel
hangs between us
anger. frustration. pain.
all hovering in the void

Starting the car
I pull my dress up over my knees
to be cooler
and catch his brief glance
sure he’s a breast man himself
but will still admire my legs
blatantly

The mood lightens at this
and pulling out of the parking lot
I turn the car towards home
thinking, yeah
we’ll stay together, but
don’t you dare call it fate

If anyone asks

it wasn’t luck
that brought us together
or fate
and it might have been God
doing that
but so far I have received
no official word

all I know for certain
all I remember
are fireworks going off
food tasting better
and all the senses
heightened

and if you go
there will be no more
explosions
my meals plain
and without
any spice

toast corners
scrambled
over-cooked bacon
because I like it that way
a hint of
the acrid afternoon
pretending we did not sleep in
to avoid
orange juice they
don’t fresh squeeze anymore
and all that coffee
I used to grind myself