Monday, July 02, 2007
With abandon
This girl dances, making
With joy
Her own sequence of discoveries-
That she can put
The left foot in then
The right foot in
And she
Can do this
All by
Herself.
Yes
We are at a wedding here, sitting alone
I think of my own failings: Two marriages, two divorces,
Two children left unto me. The years and
Shades of truth smear grey
Like yesterday's Playdoh.
How am I to reconcile
Within the spaces of my heart
All the days of this
Child's life that have led
To now?
My daughter dances
At a celebration that tastes to me
Like ashes.
And yet in this moment
How bright
This child's purpose burns:
To move
Her body
And my soul.
This girl jumps, spins, twirls
Pushes her hair out of her face and
Runs back
To grab my hand. With abandon
This girl dances, and
I can too.
summer 2007
Friday, January 15, 2010
making space
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
making space
making space
hurts
but bitter
gardens
wont grow
i
cant stand
here
holding onto
weeds
let them
go
this choking
ambivalence
wont clear
itself
i know
this
place is
not
bereft
good soil
still
waits i
will
work so
those
blooms
left can
turn
face the
sun
and become.
making space
making space
hurts
but bitter
gardens
wont grow
i
cant stand
here
holding onto
weeds
let them
go
this choking
ambivalence
wont clear
itself
i know
this
place is
not
bereft
good soil
still
waits i
will
work so
those
blooms
left can
turn
face the
sun
and become.
red light
Thursday, April 17, 2008
red light
we ate good Greek food.
we talked about her day and her
friends and her dreams of culinary school.
we sat next to the kitchen
listening to the women in handkerchiefs
talk amongst themselves.
the waitress efficiently cleared our table
mothered her toddler and confirmed our suspicions
regarding the ingredients in our desserts.
as we walked the two blocks back to our car
she pointed out the red jacket men
who patrol the downtown area
and sang the song
she and her friends made up about them.
she showed me the mural
in the alley she cuts through to get to the bus stop
the dress shop she wants to look at
sometime when its open and also
the place where she once saw
a raccoon die- yes
she did cry describing
the frantic phone calls she made asking all the
appropriate public services
to help it
and how she sat there
for two hours after her friends left
waiting
and no one came
and it died
she saw its chest move
and then stop
down just there beside those rocks
in a pit behind the fence
she couldnt climb.
wrapped around by the wind
we walked past this place.
we walked by the charter school
she wants so desparately
to convince me to let her transfer to-
she says
less bad kids go there than where
shes at now and the teachers give detention
if they see students smoking.
we went into the artist co-op / whatnot next to it.
with five dollars we bought exactly
three mismatching gloves
one silver purse
two fuzzy ended muppet lookin boot covers
and a medium sized camara bag.
we made plans to come back next thursday for
open art night.
on the way home
we called grandma and grandpa
and for once left messages on both cell phones
and giggled about
how long it will take them
to figure out what to do about that-
and then in the car
waiting the light to grant safe passage
she said
the only ineffective parent she had
was the dead one.
red light
we ate good Greek food.
we talked about her day and her
friends and her dreams of culinary school.
we sat next to the kitchen
listening to the women in handkerchiefs
talk amongst themselves.
the waitress efficiently cleared our table
mothered her toddler and confirmed our suspicions
regarding the ingredients in our desserts.
as we walked the two blocks back to our car
she pointed out the red jacket men
who patrol the downtown area
and sang the song
she and her friends made up about them.
she showed me the mural
in the alley she cuts through to get to the bus stop
the dress shop she wants to look at
sometime when its open and also
the place where she once saw
a raccoon die- yes
she did cry describing
the frantic phone calls she made asking all the
appropriate public services
to help it
and how she sat there
for two hours after her friends left
waiting
and no one came
and it died
she saw its chest move
and then stop
down just there beside those rocks
in a pit behind the fence
she couldnt climb.
wrapped around by the wind
we walked past this place.
we walked by the charter school
she wants so desparately
to convince me to let her transfer to-
she says
less bad kids go there than where
shes at now and the teachers give detention
if they see students smoking.
we went into the artist co-op / whatnot next to it.
with five dollars we bought exactly
three mismatching gloves
one silver purse
two fuzzy ended muppet lookin boot covers
and a medium sized camara bag.
we made plans to come back next thursday for
open art night.
on the way home
we called grandma and grandpa
and for once left messages on both cell phones
and giggled about
how long it will take them
to figure out what to do about that-
and then in the car
waiting the light to grant safe passage
she said
the only ineffective parent she had
was the dead one.
shana says..
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
shana says..
that boys are icky.
and we are adventure princesses and
that sure was a great movie and she is happy
brown bear behaved so well.
and she IS
going to get a pink unicorn picture framed
but that
i have to HELP HER clean her room first. and
can she please have
lemonade tomorrow because thats all she likes
now. and someday.... someDAY..
she’s going to have to shave her legs, you know.
but she doesn’t know
when. yet.
and she misses her daddy.
and she misses her friend simone.
and she misses her old teacher.
and she thinks why airlie
ran away is because maybe she was afraid
shana would tell on her
for smoking.
shana says..
that boys are icky.
and we are adventure princesses and
that sure was a great movie and she is happy
brown bear behaved so well.
and she IS
going to get a pink unicorn picture framed
but that
i have to HELP HER clean her room first. and
can she please have
lemonade tomorrow because thats all she likes
now. and someday.... someDAY..
she’s going to have to shave her legs, you know.
but she doesn’t know
when. yet.
and she misses her daddy.
and she misses her friend simone.
and she misses her old teacher.
and she thinks why airlie
ran away is because maybe she was afraid
shana would tell on her
for smoking.
separation
Sunday, December 30, 2007
separation
separation
is like swimming
against the current
with one arm
its like having
half your house explode
leaving the other side
slanted and cold
its a slow seeping
wound
no one else wants to
admit they see
it means
going to school functions
alone
killing your own
spiders and
watching your teenager
cry over
the number
and placement
of christmas stockings
its a spike
in your chest and
a tic
in your eye
and dreams
of water pooling
over floors in
strange houses
its a tattoo times two
of failure
on your forehead
its bankruptcy
on every possible
level
and waiting for
tanning or
after bedtime
to cry
it means smoking
and
rushing and rushing to
do everything
and none of it really matters
its having your life
put on hold
every other weekend
drinking in
loud places or
speaking
to no one at all
its being afraid
of the great unknown
number of shoes
that could be dropping
at any moment
its like being
hit repeatedly
upside the head
until you're too
bloody numb
to hate or hurt or wish or think
and
at least
its
almost
done
separation
separation
is like swimming
against the current
with one arm
its like having
half your house explode
leaving the other side
slanted and cold
its a slow seeping
wound
no one else wants to
admit they see
it means
going to school functions
alone
killing your own
spiders and
watching your teenager
cry over
the number
and placement
of christmas stockings
its a spike
in your chest and
a tic
in your eye
and dreams
of water pooling
over floors in
strange houses
its a tattoo times two
of failure
on your forehead
its bankruptcy
on every possible
level
and waiting for
tanning or
after bedtime
to cry
it means smoking
and
rushing and rushing to
do everything
and none of it really matters
its having your life
put on hold
every other weekend
drinking in
loud places or
speaking
to no one at all
its being afraid
of the great unknown
number of shoes
that could be dropping
at any moment
its like being
hit repeatedly
upside the head
until you're too
bloody numb
to hate or hurt or wish or think
and
at least
its
almost
done
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