Eye of the Storm

September 16, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

after-death clean-out:
desk too big for any room
memories replayed

pictures old and new
as far back as pain will reach
childhood relived

my life: email eye
spying on my every move
wait for responses

girls spin through crying
once it was: feed me, change me
now? essay, read, bathe

single motherhood:
just one week, and not for me
(found him at nineteen)

rushed dinners, yelling
later: lawn, Where’s Waldo search
we’ll never find him

his day versus mine:
turmoil a different tune
loss and love, rebirth

how they bring me joy
after all the years and tears
how they bring me joy

Hope Devoured

September 14, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

mid-day, he flies home
all afternoon i cook hope
form: chicken divan

an old recipe
that i made for their visits
but i wrap up now

to console still-birth
and recall family presence
even when they’re gone

the youngest cries out
because she is daddy’s girl
his phone face is brave

girls devour hope
pile ice cream for dessert
before his mom dies

asleep beside him
she heard him calling her name
she could let go, rest

midnight he’ll be up
flying home faster in dreams
regret, remorse, grief

the only one there
as she brought in her last breath
his worst fear present

the youngest cries out
as his siblings fill the house
he’s a mama’s boy

without his mama
no brave phone face, only tears
life’s a rented dream

Life. Love. Loss.

September 13, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

before dawn message
asks permission for my love
i’m awake, ready

my soul sister breaks
before the sun emerges
i’d give her my life

sleep is a present
unpresent in this week’s life
seven days of hell

he flies tomorrow
what if he doesn’t make it
in time for her death?

my girls play the wii
squealing with best friend’s pained joy
parents’ illness wins

and yet they smile
dress up in formal attire
perfect for their game

living life scares me
as i list all my boyfriends
kindergarten up

ask him to recall
if he searched for love like me
or found it at home

he cannot answer
too consumed by coming grief
losing his mother

they will play all night
and go vacation their dreams
never knowing loss

that is what i want
no search for school boyfriends
just love at home. LOVE.

The Other Side of Sorrow

September 10, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

before dawn alarm
lesson planning just can’t wait
always on my mind

six a.m. invite
curly-haired house of welcome
piano and grins

inside the lead walls?
plea for more books, print, copy
teach the world’s kids

order sympathy
on an unsigned card of hate
my heart sees flowers

psychologist’s help
ends with failing soccer star
begs for a grade change

policies can’t write
or change the screaming patient
that closes my day

teary, manly hugs
from those arms that ask for more
doctors don’t listen

at dark i drive home
day wholly spent on others
to hear more sad news

such is adult life
no more hide and seek for me
everything exposed

but how their eyes light
as they share their days’ stories
must. remember. JOY

Timeless Love

September 9, 2014September 9, 2014 / lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

class lined up by height:
Miss, take a picture! one shouts
only in my mind

competition wins
and timing controls the day
the high school life

if you find their joy
you will reach into their hearts
you learn to love teens

if you could see this
perhaps you would understand
just why i hate you

Road, River, Range

September 7, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

It is probably best that you dissented. That Wii and dinner preparation were more important than this Sunday afternoon ride.

We all have our releases. Yours is cutting onions and spinning tires in an imaginary resort. Mine is spinning tires in the real world, on concrete paved just for my bicycle.

I was first out of the gate, ready to win. For one hour, I was not anybody’s mother. Anybody’s teacher. Anybody’s wife. Anybody’s (even the one who lost her baby) friend. I was just a cyclist, three words to my name: “On your left!!” shouted to the tops of the peaks. Ringing out over my music. Move out of my way because there are not enough miles, not enough breaths in my lungs, not enough songs on this playlist to pedal through this pain.

Only: Road, River, Range. That is all I wanted to see. That is all I wanted to pull into my soul this Sunday. Those blue Colorado skies, the perfectly paved path, the river that feeds us all, and the mountains that divide our continent. There is nothing in this world more beautiful than sweat trickling down a back, tight thigh muscles, clicking gears, and That View. I could live my whole life in that one hour, the numbness of nightmares disappearing with each and every mile.

Forget what she said on Friday. Or the horrible news that I might carry like a burden for three weeks and she will carry for a lifetime. Forget that I came home to discover my husband’s mother rests on her death bed and my little girls can’t quite wrap their minds around anything deeper than the five-house alley-walk to their friend’s house.

Forget it all for this one breath-stealing shout-out: Road, River, Range. Placed here for me, for all of us, to tackle with this perfect body someone gave me to live on this Earth.

The three R’s. Only a different lesson.

Labor Day

September 1, 2014September 1, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

baby stops mid-hill
after fifteen miles, done
she’s still my winner

i will wait for her
as we end this Labor Day
she is my last one

my beach day Denver
filled with beautiful sun girls
swimming and cycling

dreams are made this way
blue skies, wood-fired pizza, sun
and spinning tires

confluence meets park
bike path meets Vittetoe fam
we meet our happy

summer’s end flowers
and a zip line that beats Spain’s
best spent allowance

unions gave day off
for sleeping in and waffles
life’s a rented dream

i think in haikus
in between Monday cycles
that bring creeks and joy

Be the Begonia

August 29, 2014August 29, 2014 / lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

they question motives
as all good scientists should
will their stems sun-stretch?

be the begonia
is this year’s inspiration
its difference is clear

not heart-shaped wither
soil-sensitive to live
pretty, yes, but weak

mother-in-law tongues
that survive a hundred years
don’t bend toward the sun

but my begonia?
a gift given before Spain?
it lives beyond dreams

be the begonia
not the wanton bamboo sprout
the sun seeks your strength

Endlessly

August 22, 2014 / lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

with golden eyelashes he sleeps
after telling the Martian story
to which only Mythili would listen
black and dark makeup-less beauty
that none of us can understand,
the one who said three months back
that she’s most like me
(all i thought of were the endlessly
imaginative doll stories, and how i hated
dolls) only to realize that
my most responsible proactive middle child
had me pegged

and how can i sum up an August Friday?
it would begin with carrying
an ever-bending begonia
through three hallways
and six sets of stairs
my endlessly flamboyant classroom colleague
holding the admin parking door open
to ask
why are women so needy?
is this why i don’t like them?
before the sun has even completely
emerged from Colorado clouds

it would end with pumpkin pie
burning up my no-a/c house
and my baby’s hands weaving
bits of crust
over her apple pie dream
as expertly as she did at age three
when Thanksgiving meant more to me
than any other holiday

in the middle, with my middle child?
school posters and schedule nightmares,
the signage of every teacher,
where i walk into that school
and every capillary in my body
is pumping blood for students
i haven’t even met

a meeting, a speech that makes me
want to hug my enemy
and wish that last year
could have been mine
ours
and the end-of-day email
blasting me
in ALL CAPS
for putting my students first
even if HE WOULDN’T

Mythili, Mythili, Mythili
who was born a writer like me
a crone before her time
whose head turned towards me on day two
how could i not know
after the
twin-in-looks-forever-defiant-Izzy
and
shy-as-a-cactus-in-December Riona
how could i not see myself in her?

the pie is in the oven
and 24 people will populate
the space between an 1864 ditch
and the playground of my youth
before i can even blink
my baby has turned 8

and we will have pie.
apple. lattice top composed
by nothing-like-me Riona.
pumpkin. requested by
my twin, Mythili.
whipped cream. to spray
in mouth of endlessly-flamboyant Isabella.

tomorrow? we will party in the park,
forget that there’s no cake.
or that schedules aren’t students.
and remember how much,
how painfully much,
we love each other.