i sent them out
in a red-lettered envelope
they cam back to me
with a black-lettered tag.
right on my cheek
the message sits
a tattoo destroying
the words i wanted back.
i scrub at the skin
wishing to wash them away
but the words are as permanent
as the tear stains i can’t replace.
is this my year of
baggage dug up from
depths beneath the earth
where i thought i’d buried
every last tag of remorse?
is this my year of
bricks stacked up along
a wall that keeps me
from where i am
and what i ache
for on the other side?
is this my year of
rain poured over my soul,
quenching the ardor
beneath my skin,
drowning my senses
until i can no longer breathe?
is this my year,
my year that i have to
let them go
let them go
let it, let it go?
just as my students pull
like a dead weight
at the back of my brain
she looks up
her four-year-old cheeks
as smooth as innocence
and whispers,
“Mama, I wish
you didn’t have to work.”
i can’t hold them back
but she studies my family tree necklace
as the salt drips down
my thirty-two-year-old cheeks
as rough as pain
and whispers,
“I love you so much, Mama.”
and it is about all i can do
it is about all i can do
it is about all i can do
holding her
without words
her cheek against my cheek
is about all i can do.
our lives
our American lives
exist in movies, books
filled with flashbacks
memorabilia
from our characters’ pasts.
our lives
our American lives
exist in the here, now
filled with wanton disregard
consumption
of our planet’s future.
their lives
their American lives
exist in computers, smart phones
filled with violent imagery,
absorption
of themselves, their future.
my life
my American life
exists in words, hope
filled with cautionary love,
faith
in them, us, our future.
take me in
i’m surrounded
i give in
pink purple white balloons
pink red streamers
a Guinness cake
homemade pumpkin pie
take me in
take me in
for a day’s preparation
for a simple birthday celebration
six years old
and she wanted the beer cake
the pumpkin pie
small and special
for the actual day
take me in
because never in my childhood
did i spend a day
an entire weekend day
preparing for a party
that she’ll remember
small and simple
in her mind tomorrow
next year
the moment
she closes her eyes
for the last time
take me in
i’ll be there by her side
when she
opens her presents
welcomes her guests
plays her games
closes her eyes
and makes her wish
our wish
for that moment
that we could
all be six again.
i need for you to see it
through my eyes
though i know
you’ll never understand.
it doesn’t help me to know
just how horrible it is
for someone else.
no matter how hard i try.
i crave what i have lost
what i dreamt most about
what is gone
and cannot be replaced.
this is a poem
filled with words
none of which can describe
what i see through my eyes.
they are small still
but not small enough.
i look at the magnet
of the fat-cheeked, bald baby
holding up the picture
of our young niece.
there she sits now,
her cheeks hollow, thin,
running her fingers across
the iPad and reading aloud
to the small sisters
who sit on either side of her.
how can this be?
how can i remember so well
the clearest moment of my life,
when i first became her mother,
their mother,
and it was just a moment ago,
i wish it were just a moment ago.
i want to take my Mason jars
and instead of canning tomatoes
trap beneath the lids
seal tight for a forever season
the years that have slipped
out of the bubbling steam of my kitchen,
out into the yard, the cul-de-sac, the school,
trap them there and stack
my three beauties in their youth,
displayed in sparkling rows
of love along my pantry shelf.
I’m still here
though only a shadow
of who you think you know.
i’ve shined my light
a bit too bright
so i think i’ll step offstage.
it’s comfortable here
behind these velvet curtains
i’m not questioned, not uncertain.
but i see you trying to peek,
wondering how i learned to be meek.
what i learned instead? how to be me.
black and white
today, yesterday
calm and fright
there is no gray
a pastured cow
a startling contrast
the future now
my mind the past?
i take away
i give it back
they sway and sway
with words attack.
tomorrow is now
and blindingly bright
this pastured cow
shall see the light.
it’s election day
and instead of red or blue
i’m wearing purple
i didn’t consider
when sleepy-eyed
i picked this passion,
two layers of
red-mixed-with-blue,
violent violet,
that i’d be combining
both parties.
this is where i am now.
no, not in the middle
no, not wary of my political stance
no, not accepting the other side.
just purplish
feeling a bit
done
done
done
with politics
that with any combination,
redbluepurple,
bring angst
into our lives.
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