I can’t sleep
every thing he said

swirls around
in a foamy mess
like clouds

looks like rain

Advertisements

awake
the birds are early
they must know something
besides the dark
how peaceful to listen
to know God hears
every lonely chirp
from my heart

Kinder

I am in the kitchen writing out my life
Chopin is in the living room, urging me not to quit
the sadness (over breakfast) and a hurried car ride
heavy and burdensome

I don’t care (I said) because of course
I care more than life itself
but if I have to give up my life
in the process (I don’t care)

Then what is the purpose of living
this strangling, overarching plot
that no one would buy
is dancing in my last nerve

So it is like this. That you will
treat me kindly in the future
and I will continue to write my life
both wonderful and terrible, and
this is the contract I bid you sign

Mama

Sing me to sleep
Mama
The night is hard
press’d to give up
its joy
you went too soon
I want to hear you
tell stories
you used to tell

I knew you were happiest
Mama
when you were a little girl
traveling state to state
in a time when
girls didn’t give up dolls
so young
as now

For you I would have tea
Mama
so we could share
iced, with chips
laughs again over
silly thoughts
he never understood
but I always laughed

Laughs come at a premium now
Mama
like gasoline
and forgiveness
your unbounded joy
something I got for free
and tonight
I remember
and laugh

endurance

the speed bumps were hell–every movement forward a vertical climb–each sodden word meant to comfort and encourage pulling her down hard–magnets in her shoes, sticking her feet solid to the road

tripping on cookie crumbles and gravy-laden track, she would never be Secretariat and not turn back, but hell if the memo-rees didn’t sprain her right ankle just as she was pulling ahead of the others

she saw the impact on their faces–after 2 decades of tsunami and degradation–lipstick and powder trying to pull it off–oh, the meanness–how they looked away, then back, then away

God’s provision, the hope in her pockets, kept her looking straight ahead, never at her feet, where even the mice were against her, the skunks conspiring, the rattlesnakes ever loud and insistent–she was not alone

Precious

She cried during Star Wars
and he laughed at her
which made her cry more
turning to lay her cheek
against the cool glass
raindrops on the window
like diamonds

‘Isn’t it precious,’ she thought
lighting a cigarette
and hearing him cough
from across the room
but he’d never tell her to stop
crazy about her grumpy moods
in love with how she exhaled

“Maybe we should get away,” he said
getting up and walking over
kneeling at her feet, and
wrapping his arms about her legs
hearing her reply how she liked
things the way they were, and
feeling her fingers in his hair