May (2012) Daughters

Riona

with Starburst in her pocket,
girls follow behind like
needy pups.
only one knows the destination
of the gift:
the quiet child who always watches,
who often plays by herself
and becomes the coveted pet tagalong

now she pipes up,
i know who those are for–my mama,
because she loves my mama
and my mama loves Starburst.

i would like to be that unnoticed
and that necessary.

Mythili

you’re the middle child
unaware of sisters’ quirks
living in your world

Isabella

you gave me a dose
of grumpy teenage hormones
what will we do then?

Dots on a Map

yes, it was Hitler.
he gathered them up,
took family members one by one,
and like feathers
tossed into a torrent,
the survivors fled home

that’s my first dot

their home across the sea,
ancestors’ ashes scattered
into a grey Polish sky,
is what brings them to me

my second dot

a rejection letter,
a flyer in a park,
three daughters and a school
quite fluent in Spanish
who years later would fly in
two Spaniards
to fill every moment of our lives

my third dot

was it her Inquisition,
or Hitler’s wrath,
or the coming together
of lines on a child’s paper
that connected the dots,
the dots on a map
that make my dream a reality?

three Colorado girls.
Spaniards full of life.
a doctor from Jerusalem.
with a few words,
desires both evil and good,
we are all connected.

Reflection

she puts it there for me
and i could copy this
and be someone else
just like she desires

but then i wouldn’t be me
i wouldn’t be that person
who put in that application
and told her husband
at age thirty-four
we’re moving to Spain

i would be just like
just like
all the other souls
who fit into conformity
who settle into the home
that’s so familiar

i would be you
i would be your mirror
and how happy would you be
looking back
at the reflection?

The Truth

i am authentic
the exact character trait
so despised by all

Fraction

behind these lyrics
i leave back pieces of me
the world will not see

Imaginary Waves

arriving just after dawn
trees bend in the breeze
by midday we swallow sand
the beach’s beauty tainted
a hot wind to bring a new season

I could put my hand out the window
make imaginary waves
pretend that my rhythmic motions
are wings carrying me elsewhere

instead I stare into the distance
mountains masked by haze
and wait for the moment
my moment
when wind will mean more
than bent branches
and the coming of summer

Sign Here

a short signature
that will begin a new life
sadness subsided

Dream Come True?

nausea in and out
sickened with sadness and loss
will it be worth it?

My Naked Feet

i am 34
i am 16
i am glaring at you
and i have cried for three days
she won’t say a word

i dial his number
she drives in my
barefoot-on-pavement rain
the same water that washed away
my 16-year-old Oxfordian tears?
these are the tears
that will take me to Spain

that will bring back my youth
and allow me to say goodbye
to everything i have ever known

and when i send these
(as she calls them)
poetic texts?
they will wash away
when i put my naked feet
on the pavement again
on another continent
a place i’ve never been
a place i’ve only dreamed about

Love/Hate Relationship

you are not the worst
i am not the best
is this love or hate
or a need to frustrate?

i wish that i could explicate
our desire to communicate
you know i love this place
and would like to leave with grace

but i cannot swallow lies
two-faced talk i despise
so please put it to me straight
is this love or is this hate?