Cobblestones

One step behind, and
a lit cigarette on the sidewalk
my next footprint snuffing it out–
how I ended a friendship
with one gesture
he would not let me take back;

How she left me behind
after one phone call
neither of us could forget–
my shoe, unsinged
and my heart, unbroken–

But, over time
I become surprised
at the ache that stays

The status of our friendship

is somewhere between
you can share my nachos
and your pillow
is my pillow–

Each time we examine
our status
I get excited
you are still
here
but
hands off my chocolate–

there are limits

(2015)

Frigid

pink moon 2

On this cold planet
exiled for loving too much
and too hard
presided by a moon
icy and unfeeling

I remember love
the thoughts
of warm hands
and
the heart of a champion

I recall a day
when I was made queen
of one man, one seeker
and it reminds me not to let go
of the tether

To be carried
through frigid space
to be sentenced
for always–

Come to me again
my love
with that fire
so red and angry–
it would send that moon

splashing

Say you’ll never leave me

Peanut-butter and jelly on toast
and the end to all things
Lana del Rey crooning in a way
I have come to count upon–

Eggs boiling–keeping it simple
the room taking on
a balmy. sultry. foggy feeling
at the cusp of a mid-west winter.

Shall we dance? Let us
make the best of it, with our
dead leaves to be raked, and
our car rusting up from the bottom–-

With my sepia view of the yard, and
our birthdays looming, suddenly
less of a threat, and doing their best
to be more of a promise–-


Monday Random: stay-cation

Autumn tree

  • With all the unexpected expenditures lately, it made sense to make this year’s vacation a series of day trips.
  • The last vacation was in 2017, as 2018 was the year in which we moved, and moving pretty much ate up any chances of making extra plans.
  • For us, going north into Wisconsin as far as we wish just about sums it up-looking for photo opportunities at various lakes, and basking in the local colour
  • the leafy sort

Continue reading “Monday Random: stay-cation”

Monday random

  • Those who know me well know that I have resisted getting a cell phone for all these years
  • except for a brief tryst with a flip phone between ’06-’08
  • I have a new friend who is quickly becoming like one of the family who says it is not safe for me not to have a phone with the cars I drive, old and rusting away as they are
  • I say it is a luxury
  • a nuisance
  • but she is right. One car is a ’94 and one is a ’99.
  • They make some of the same noises my knees make on stairs.
  • So that’s that.

Continue reading “Monday random”

Monday

I stare into my coffee as if it will give me answers, a swirl of black coffee foaming from the press. It isn’t talking. Maybe some tea.

I’ve been here before–a cold, hard rock and a lost place. I am not a child. I sit paralyzed. The door annoys and the phone is an intrusion.

There is one thing that is tolerable. And as a child, music could soothe me. But which? Blues is too sad. Would jazz make me bitch-slap someone?

Ah, Brahms,my old friend.I smile and squeeze his hand. No,It must be Ludwig. Do understand. It is not you, it’s me. There is so much at stake.

Continue reading “Monday”

Cookbook, page 29

Breakfast was unsatisfying
The sunshine made too much of it all
The rain is coming, not nearly soon enough
The birds complained about the bread crusts
(breakfast, sun, rain, birds, bread)
Recipe for a morning.

The night was interrupted twice
The stars made 2 a.m. worth it
I found myself dozing, pen in hand
The rain (still) has not arrived, and I wait
The birds sang me awake so I could write to you
(night, stars, pen, rain, birdsong)
Recipe for joy.

Separated by inches

Pacing at the window while the clock ticks in disbelief
Every hour today is wrap’t up in my irreverent grief.

Pointed fingers say it is my choosing and I take my penance
Our two languages have robbed us of our romance like a thief.

Agendas were voted on and no one else could be deemed errant
Watching twenty years drop one by one like an October leaf.

Outside I hear the robin’s and the bluejay’s raucous discontent
‘Twould be arrogant to view their passing as more than merely brief.

Oh Rose, you have done yourself in by worry’s cunning snares
All your cares now laid upon pillows of music and belief.

**

I dislike epilogues, or explanation of any kind accompanying poetry. But, this poem is a long time coming, and promised to Uma at One Grain Amongst the Storm . I read and enjoy his ghazal poems, a form in which I have wanted to try for some time, with only confidence holding me back. Like the haiku, the ghazal comes with a respected history, of which I would not want to disrespect with poor lines.

All that to say, here is my version of an English Ghazal. Thank you