Month: March 2012

The Royal Arch

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i can run up this hill
(it is more like a mountain)
i’ll take my years-old Adidas
and pound my way, breathless,
till i see that rock formation

sweat streams from my pores
and i snatch glances back at you
we might as well go all the way now
i point out, once we see the
.23 miles left sign at the top of the pass

you must rest, drink, and i gather in
the view of the rock-steps,
the city of my dreams,
and your sweat/cologne scent
while i wait for you

the last stretch, trail hidden
by a trickling waterfall
amongst rocks so steep we must
use the strength of our palms to pull,
is always the hardest

there it is though…
the arch that has rested above my world
for all of my life,
and without this beautiful day,
these strenuous steps,
without you, i would have missed it

March (2012) Daughters

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Isabella

you pop out of bed
with a craving for peppermint tea–
it’s been a long night,
filled with the turmoil
of the ever-adamant stomach bug.
you should be sleeping,
wanting to watch mindless television.
instead you run on the treadmill,
make circles with your bike
and spend a three-hour afternoon
entertaining your friends and siblings
along every corner of the park

you may walk around the house
as cheeky as a teenager (age nine)
wearing your iPod like
an artificial limb,
but on days like this,
your boundless energy ever present,
i know just how much
you are my daughter.

Mythili

you are ferocious, tenacious
in everything you do,
whether it’s your insistence on hunger
(even soon after eating)
or your commitment
to your best friend,
sharing nicknames with her,
demanding to spend school nights
sleeping over at her house,
and loving her, fighting with her
as if she is the other sister
you never had

i know you are only seven,
but i see so much
of an adult in your
not-quite-innocent level of dedication;
i can already picture
the woman you will be

Riona

the exuberant smile
that carried you out the door
after them
has disappeared as you
plod back in,
morose expression of want
dripping from your face

you point to the scratch,
a tearless, silent cry for attention,
and i put all i have
(my ice cold beer bottle)
against the unbleeding skin.
pop! there it is again,
the exuberant smile
of the littlest angel
whose delicate pleas for love
are always so easily satisfied

I Am Always Amazed

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i could hear the howling
i had my gym bag packed
i longed for climate control
(i longed for you more)

throw passion to the wind
they always say that
because they’re not driving
into a twenty-mph-headwind
or feeling it edge along
our backs, our tires
as we ride uphill
faster than the opposite side
pushes down

it’s always those curves along the dam
trying to tell us we can’t make it–
they don’t know us very well, do they?
how i ache to reach the end
where i will have full view of the lake,
where you will take me down
the curvacious path
and rebuild the quads
that have longed for you all winter

i am always amazed
i am always amazed
by how connected i feel
(alone on you)
to the world around me,
how i see the water
and in it my grandmother’s love
for looking at the water,
(insert tears here)
how the right song always comes on
(“Sky Blue and Black” this morning)
how all my stress
slips into the howling wind
as i race for a better time,
how i love,
love,
love you

Paper Fashion Show

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bathed in blue blossoms of artistic light
the paper runway’s fine fashions take flight
paper mimics cloth on each model’s dress
covering head to toe (and sometimes less)

Alice in Wonderland brings out the kids
each judge sees beauty and silently bids
costumes as colorful as a rainbow
sing praises with this paper fashion show

from Medusa to warriors of Troy
all top-notch women and one small boy
Caribbean waitress serving cocktails
spotlight shining on perfect paper trails

fine cuts of long skirts woven and tapered
a new kind of art: magic with paper
bathed in bright blossoms of beauteous light
the paper fashion show brings day to night

8

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you say eight is the magic number,
all the atoms crave its perfection
(was i born to study science,
the subject i so hated in school?)

i cried when i knew i wouldn’t be
a part of your class
(i begged her to change my schedule
and she made a small compromise)

i can’t say what it is
because it is too subtle to explain
(his words a blur of frustration
never trapped for them to see)

so the opposite of the smooth experience
that our students see every day
(a perfect partnership that takes
them, all of them, to a deeper understanding)

you say eight is the magic number–
the atoms exchange electrons
(to balance each other out,
to coexist in perfect harmony)

you see in me what i see in you
and it is not what anyone else sees
(and wrapped up in infinitesimal 8
the science becomes beautiful to me)

Good

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just like a baby
my baby curls in to cuddle
her small body
still fits into my lap

i can’t replace the hours we’ve lost
the years we’ve lost
or fill the ache in my heart
for the good i’m trying to do
that doesn’t do me any good

but when her tears creep down?
when she won’t go for a night of fun
because she’s missed me too much,
when the weeks have flooded by
in a pile of work
that i’m so fucking good at
when i can’t just be her mother?

it is too much
and i am five again
just like her
searching for my mother’s arms
to comfort the sadness
that rests so heavily on my soul

Across the Ice

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i don’t fit in here,
this suburban-sports-mom place–
ice skates and hockey pucks,
wealth dripping from
concession-stand ketchup
onto Gucci bags,
iPhones snapping
pictures of perfection
(pictures i will never take)

she wants to be a part of it all,
not for one second
jaded by the disorganization,
the preferred treatment of boys,
the simplicity of the lesson
she’s too skilled for and
that costs as much as i make in a day

i want to give it to her
and take her home
all in the same moment,
to tell her she won’t lose her childhood
if she spends her afternoons
playing in the cul-de-sac
with the homeschooled,
underexposed neighbors

but her eyes?
her weeks of anticipation?
i can’t take back this gift,
this inherent joy
that will carry her across the ice
and into her miniature version
of the dream
we all have inside ourselves