thievery on kids
with granted Christmas wishes:
a new kind of low
scooter happiness
snatched from public library
while books stole our hearts
between this and puke
and sis stuck in Kentucky
(in snow of all things)
this week weighs heavy
for this mom, sister, teacher
(no end to winter)
but the sun was high
and we’re rich with two jobs now
(solved our scooter blues)
and we have love here
stolen from youth to old age
given to these girls
burst from these dark days
of post-holiday winter
news to change a life
(or ten thousand lives)
cause that’s how many she’ll touch
in her tenure here
this comes full circle
(the young-mother sacrifice,
the risky Spain year)
to work with passion
to be led with compassion
to love, love my school
it’s all i’ve wanted
thirteen years waiting for strength
to be my leader
i’d like to break free
like our DNA pea lab
(alcohol release)
they questioned this choice
(this isn’t science class, Miss!) yet their eyes were bright
bright eyes keep me sane
when dark thoughts hover so close
to this extraction
they see where love is
hidden in cells’ nuclei
ready to break free
how loud his voice is
when i hear it soberly
no numbness to mask
how aching my head
just shy of three weeks without
sugar going… gone
how did i get here?
the truth is too hard to bear
seen with my new eyes
how will i go on?
pounding head, clean liver, hope
for a better life
walk for forgiveness
for the fight for lost causes
(that we still fight for)
by some miracle
this day is always balmy
as we make our way
scooters–a new trick
to have me chase after them
instead of dragged feet
the mix of colors
between sky, humanity
carries this bright wave
we walk for peace, love
so we’ll always remember
what not to forget
we walk ’cause we can
because peace comes in small steps
found in winter warmth
fourteen class hours
in three days. cold winter walk
to house of illness.
no breaks this weekend
as oldest tells project woes
(procrastination)
middle craves pancakes
but class again tomorrow
allows no bake time
(he’ll be up all night
holding a pail for baby
to give me this chance)
as it’s always been–
i work, work, work… he supports
(and we’re all winners)
half hour per kid
400 students to test:
nightmare formula
expectations lost
on those who make test money
(never worked with kids)
if they’d see our day
they’d cut this mindless bullshit
down to what’s needed
but they don’t know needs
they know only dollar signs
and we’re left to blame
reasons why i stopped:
one–brutal voice in writing,
uncensored anger
two–not much laughter,
too much crying to count
(my tear stained regrets)
three–exhausted sleep
from too many restless nights
swimming in nightmares
four–so much good lost
on the desire to numb,
to not fully live
five–waste of money
in times when we had little,
in times when we’re rich
six–lust and lack of
mediocre love-making
blurred by consumption
seven–fat belly
of someone too far along
to give up this quick
eight–every bad choice
i have made as an adult
came from that bottle
nine–joy i once felt
disappeared on icy rocks
of my lost chances
ten–my daughters’ eyes
watching every move i make
(and i’m making… them)
finally the talk
(though teen truth is not revealed)
but i’ll work on her
another long night
(i’d never lecture this long)
yet my kids judge me
i teach how i learn:
modeling, demonstration,
then application
i plan; over plan
think things through with them in mind
everything for them
yet it doesn’t work
i’ve somehow lost touch with them
and–worse–with myself
i miss the old me
so confident, outspoken
not worried for loss
now i question all:
which kid hates me most, and why?
will i keep my job?
but the worst is dark:
why can’t i be nicer… loved?
why can’t i smile?
i’ll go on, of course–
house bought, girls in school, trap set–
but at what cost? loss?
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