Christmastime Glitter

it could be the lights
twinkling like miniatures stars
or the people walking
hand in hand,
or the horses’ hooves
that sparkle
in Christmastime glitter

or it could be
the three little girls
in footed pajamas
covered in heavy coats,
fleecy hats, and snow boots,
drawing attention
from passersby
about our new fashion trend.

it could be the
fresh baked zucchini cake
with sprinkly cream cheese frosting,
the hot eggnog latte,
the grasshopper chocolate,
that ride down into our stomachs
on a warm sled of delectability.

whatever it is,
the lights, the girls, the food,
it is home, city, love.

Devoured

how to feed six children:
mix one pound of beef,
one pound of pasta,
a giant jar of tomatoes,
two cups of white sauce,
a few kid-friendly spices,
and place it on the table.

fifteen minutes later,
after firsts and seconds are devoured,
put in a movie and wait.
they’ll wander into the kitchen
one at a time,
begging to be fed again.

get out the half gallon
of ice cream and
place it on the table.
five minutes later,
after firsts and seconds are devoured,
brush their teeth and put them to bed.

when the sun rises,
repeat,
repeat,
repeat.

Always

what words can i say
twelve hundred miles away?
you are still the girl
with the giant bubble in your mouth,
the sprayed-up bangs
and over-sized boys’ sneakers.
aren’t you?

now a mother like me
a young mother of three
and your pain hides behind your words
just as i hide mine in these poems.
will it wait there,
hidden in scripted messages,
until someone with the right
encryption has the power to release it?

what can i say
twelve hundred miles away?
these words are too late
for amends and lost time.
but i will still put them here
for you to remember the childhood
we shared, the happiness
that hides behind the words,
that, just like the pain,
will find its way out,
ready to release you
into the person you have always been
and always will be.

Cold

the cold has set in
marching our hands to our mouths
our breath escaping
into the Christmas-lit night
as if carried by ghosts.

i listen to my favorite song
by Jakob Dylan,
summer on my mind.
if it refuses to snow
then i refuse to accept
that winter is only days away.

the cold has set in
creeping into my skin
reminding me
of the darkness behind the light
the hollow hiding behind this night.

Snatch

i see the words today
hovering over my early morning
they follow me over snow-dusted streets
and evaporate in a cloud of breath
against the blaring white lights
as haunting as ghosts
as they disappear into the sunrise.

they are mine
and as much as i wish to let them go
i crave to snatch them back
for they are forever on the page
in the realms of all who wonder
what it is i might have to say.

but just as the earth turns
to let in the light of day
my words will remain
where i have chosen for them to be.
and me? i cannot snatch back
the pieces of my soul
that i have offered to the world.

Love, Hate

who you see here tonight?
it’s the me he dislikes
how i laugh, laugh, laugh
exposing everything
in my (their) disbelief

it’s a standing joke now
(gift card to prove it)
and i will smile all the way
until tomorrow

carrying her hands on my hands
her eyes on my eyes
how i see what others do not
how i know what others do not

everything, everything exposed
just like that night in the car
when it was so, so, beautifully orgasmic

and i swallowed it whole
my love
i swallowed the cool air
the bitter whiskey
the smooth rum
the cream cheese

because it is all a part
of the here and now,
the then
the me whom i love
and hate
whom i love
and hate.

Resolution

the end is near
and it can’t come fast enough
but i can still see
the year in its entirety
laid out like a lemonade stand
everything for sale
just a quarter
as the neighbors march by
and i make no money

i wait here for the moment
when it will all be resolved
when the new year
will be resolved, resolved, resolved
as if i need a solution
again, again, again.

perhaps when the ball drops
i will know what it will be.

Choice

do we fight this fight
or give in for one night?
do we stand our ground
and put up with the sound?

it’s hard to know what to do
when it isn’t us, but you
we can’t control what others want
only their actions tonight will haunt.

sleep will come when exhaustion wins
and we’ll forget this evening’s sins
moving on to the light of day
we’ll say what we want to say.

Giggling Circles

I was your age once
and when the teacher said,
Do your homework
and everyone sat
in giggling circles
of middle school talk,
abandoning all ambition,
I sat alone at my desk
and finished my assignments,
never once in three years
taking one home,
yet had a straight-A report card.

Perhaps that is why
I cannot relate to you,
finals coming down your pike
faster than the bullet train,
yet you sit in giggling circles
of apathy, no worries for home life,
your future, education passing
by before you can hold out your ticket.

I wish you could see yourself
ten, fifteen years from now,
remembering (forgetting) this time.
Perhaps you would look back
and wish you had taken
your seat on that train that passed,
or perhaps you will still sit
in giggling circles,
unaware of all that you have missed.

Enough

two months and half a day later
we have three grocery sacks
filled with homemade breads,
a peach box filled with apple butter jars,
miniature bags of homemade candy
and an early Christmas gift
for everyone we know.

it could be more, it could be less.
sometimes i wonder if it will ever be enough.