Love’s Labor Lost

beach day ends summer
 (though it’s already over)
 school can kick our ass
 
 she’ll paddle toward sun
 let weekend sparkles shine through–
 make this week worth it
 
 with our lives packed up
 these small moments so matter
 more than i can say
 
 even with the rain
 that raced us back to our car
 we dried off. and won.
 
 

Spanglish

four month retrial
 because i never give up
 i never give up
 
 
 

Back to School Night

this is tonight’s shot:
 empty desks without parents
 but please: blame teachers
 

Smooth Migration

my thousandth visit
 just as pretty as the first
 brings peace to my stress
 
 and seeing her run
 beating her time on day two
 goose wings to the sky
 
 

Credibility

i don’t ask for much
 (credit where it’s due would do)
 and a little faith
 
 you’ve given neither
 but i won’t back down, i won’t
 (they’re worth fighting for)
 
 someday you’ll see that
 (or maybe you won’t; but me?)
 i’ll credit their fight
 
 

Cross Country

weekend leftovers
 murmur an early Monday
 in my groaning gut
 
 technology blues
 plague two classes, one meeting
 forced into nonsense
 
 data collection
 begins my singular plan
 till phone rings: sick kid
 
 frazzled packing up
 for a stomach flu faker
 then two extra kids
 
 but that is not all!
 cross country registration
 at the last moment
 
 my middle girl runs!
 two days a week, a new plan:
 laps around the park
 
 (he can cook dinner–
 we’ll eat late like back in Spain,
 shed this U.S. stress)
 
 and i will run too–
 take tree-lined tech-free views home
 (run free, not ragged)
 
 
 
 

Border Crossings

sacrifice summed up
 in a hundred teens’ letters
 breaks my heart each year
 
 
 

YOLO

my first orgasm
 given to a boy now dead
 life’s too fucking short
 
 my childhood park
 lit under a cloudy moon
 is what calms me down
 
 i’d walk the world
 to find my way back to you
 eighteen years in, love
 
 we’re all grown up now
 me a woman, you a man
 let’s let bygones… be
 
 there’s no other moon
 to shine city-bright tonight
 just my love, your love
 
 
 

Twelve Years In

dancing in the street
 with her dress flaring around
 still my little girl
 
 
 

Two Too Many

end of day feet up
 hours on end of walking
 then pickup, dinner…
 
 day two of two jobs
 the runaround’s new to me
 exhaustion takes time
 
 the girls say it best:
 hang the dolls on bike rack noose
 and call it a day