Month: May 2012

Nonrefundable Reservations

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day eleven, wall seventeen:
a stack of irreplaceable bills,
nonrefundable reservations
scraping at my dream
(everything i can’t give,
everything i can’t take back)

will it be worth it,
will they open their eyes wider
upon breathing Mediterranean air,
or will the burdens bearing down
on mama and daddy
be heavier than sea-level breath?

if i could slide down the mountains
right down into the sea
and shed myself of my
nonrefundable reservations,
would i be free enough to see the beauty
behind the walls i must still face?

Open

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don’t do anything
i wouldn’t do, i tell him,
love’s door wide open

My Last Four Days

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this will be my last four days.
i have one cardboard box,
a creekside path,
an empty laptop bag,
and just a bit of my soul
trailing me out the door.

i’d like to leave it open,
for you to say, Come back.
i haven’t asked for much–
and given so much instead,
but you don’t see the notes
i receive from a teacher
twenty years back,
the one who saw the light in me
when i was thirteen,
when i am thirty-four

instead you are blinded by dollars,
hassles, and paperwork
(aren’t we all?)
so much that the dream
that once burned inside you?
it has withered away
into a tiny flame
barely bright enough
to blaze beside my fire

Thirteen Ways of Looking at These Brownies

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Modeled after Wallace Stevens’
“Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”

I
my grandmother’s hands
sifting the too-expensive flour
to make my father his
50th birthday cake
(the last time she would show me
her Italian kitchen)

II
the torn-apart bag
flour spilling at the reams
and the brownie recipe of my dreams

III
the first bite of brownie
a culinary orgasmic attack
against the tongue
of every sweet i’d
previously put into my mouth

IV
the shy nudge
the first placement
of a brownie on another’s desk
a reach for friendship

V
imagine a bicycle
a saddlebag
a laptop
five pounds of brownies
1029 feet of elevation gain
gratitude at the end of the ride

VI
Thursday evening
sun setting over every season
a thick black spoon
eight ingredients
black brownie mix
as thick as hope

VII
brownie thank-you cards
mysteriously appear in my mailbox

VIII
handwritten notes
begging to be included on
The Brownie List

IX
popping peppermint in at Christmas
and my daughter’s two-month-later birthday
because everyone has a favorite brownie

X
the joy that rests in your mouth
after eating the brownie
and the joy that rests in your heart
after sharing the taste–
they are one and the same

XI
the small hands
that crack eggs
that beg for a taste
that show the mercy of generosity
as together we make brownies

XII
4500 applicants
an ocean
an opportunity of a lifetime
a store without my brownie ingredients

XIII
seven of the best years of my life
a semi-broken heart
and all the brownies
i will never be able to bake

Cheshire Cat

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

you sit with your Cheshire cat smile
prettily perched on outstretched limb
you seem to love, but all the while
with callous eyes you scan and skim

i have walked a glorious mile
this is not an unsettled whim
please take back your synthetic smile
till you can learn just how to swim

you took me in, and with your guile
filled my faithful cup to its brim
but you can take your Cheshire smile
and slink along another limb

Sprung

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fire-banning drought
sucking spring rains from wildlife
broken by night’s clouds

A Thousand Words

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with just seven words
you’ve taken away thousands
our picture no more

You Are Unforgiven

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i told him
FROM NOW ON
i’m writing in extended metaphors
then no one can get pissed
feel left out
never forgive my words

YOU ARE UNFORGIVEN
don’t quote your
classroom time
don’t try to be
the person you are not

the teacher
you are not

it would take
less than one day
less than one hour
to step into that classroom
and see the deepest connection
to students
that you will ever witness
it would take
ten minutes
sticks in hand
plethora of patience
resting on lips
less than the time it takes
for you to compose
the first draft
of your horrific email

I WILL NOT WRITE IN METAPHORS
because you need to hear
that the teachers you claim to support
are fleeing like migrating birds
and soon you will be
in the midst of mediocrity

go ahead
tweet your latest
run out teachers
who know better than you
how to form
the society
you claim to adhere to

Sailor’s Delight

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i know the old phrase that brings down the sea
each dawn my mind sees the words cross the sky
it haunts the sailors but doesn’t haunt me
the beauty of dawn is what i live by

it shares, red sky at night, sailors’ delight
though surely the pink Pike’s Peak wasn’t viewed
on each red morning with pink clouds so bright
i can feel my whole soul being renewed

it warns, red sky at morning, sailors give warning
missing the mountain peaks’ glorious blue
pink skies at night bring nothing but mourning
to craved-strength muscles that ache to break through

i hear old phrases with opposite terms
as i cycle my way to a new day
what’s beauty to me, to you is just worms
so i’ll take my colors and sail my way

Crossroads

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every morning
as i come to my crossroads
just after dawn
touches her fingers to sky,
i make my decision–
an uphill battle
breaking my muscles,
the wind of the highlands
an ever-greater challenge
than the meandering creek

i pedal for simple sights:
the middle-aged blonde
with two matching goldens,
(sometimes leashed, sometimes free)
the bright yellow spot
of a SmartCar, and me
always wondering just where
on the curvacious beauty of
a road i will pass it,
the ever-silent deer
who peer intently at my machine
as they stand cautiously
at the edge of civilization.

and today? a gift,
the top of the most tenuous climb,
the wind bending back leaves
and straightening out flags,
pushing against my will,
when what should cross the road
but a lone pronghorn,
its native spirit leaping
over barbed wire and into
the chaparral, leaving me to
finish my ride, open up
a starvation-induced chocolate
whose wrapper reads,
You are exactly where
you’re supposed to be

(i don’t throw it away,
its aluminum words
imprinted on the crossroads
that may lead me elsewhere tomorrow)