truth hides behind sweets
spun in twisted cotton puffs
too good to resist
it’s found in blue skies
after days of silent snow
(unforgiving eyes)
it’s trapped on leashes
waiting for that outdoor risk
ready to break free
it’s the tie that binds
and breaks trust as we swallow,
candy-coated lust
in mineral baths
i mock a tropical life
(yet i’m still so cold)
the snow drives us home
a lion-like March exit
to freeze my failure
nothing can replace
all the hours without them
now bathed with worse score
Spanglish park play date
joy found amongst las ramas
friend language rooted
(questionable choice–
my student’s family, my girls–
here we cross borders)
my colleague had
Teacher Tequila Tuesday.
i ran three miles, carpooled kids,
cooked vegan chili and cornbread,
gathered girls from play date,
showered, did our taxes,
spoke in Spanish por teléfono,
and never slurred a word.
he may be Mr. Popularity.
but i win this Tuesday.
snow carries in spring
between white petals and flakes
baby blue returns
they’re slightly off tune
surrounded by perfection
like flowers blooming
not quite ready yet
for the season to push through
bursting in the sun
but they’re mine, all mine
smiles and chases and love
bursting through the blue
a sound of thunder
beats down truer every day
good lord save us all
after a draining day
with back talk on all fronts
i just want to laugh it up
at a simple game
between a spiral and a kitten
to spin my mood back
to have someone listen
with eyes and words offered in peace
and make promises you know she’ll keep
and coo at cute colleagues’ babies
and smile behind tears we all so often hide…
it makes a Monday bearable,
a coffeehouse tea taste smooth and soothing,
a repressed voice feel fulfilled for the first time in years,
and a view into the future shine bright with silver linings
the school door is locked at 5 a.m.
in case you needed to know,
your key card will conjure the green light,
but the door won’t click open.
7-Eleven is open at that hour,
and there’s no traffic on any street.
nothing but a sliver of silver moonlight
competing with the dull yellow glow of city streetlights.
you can walk with fear in your step
(who is that hooded creature?)
while waiting for the door to open.
listen to your audiobook about the
Roosevelt Panama Canal scandal.
(wish you hadn’t heard it, wish Roosevelt could remain the king of conservation you’ve admired atop
Mt. Rushmore, glasses, grin, and all)
you can find yourself at 5 a.m.
piled under papers and planning,
sleep surrendered to 4-prep stress,
solace comes from pre-dawn accomplishments.
(the door clicks open at 5:30.
before the secretary can check you in.
before breakfast lunch carts arrive,
and hundreds of hungry hands hanker for your time)
you can start a day at 5 a.m.
it will be inundated with a quagmire of mother’s guilt and teacher’s helplessness,
all because of a shuttered door.
my voice is hoarse from a discussion–
vibrant questions popping up all around,
a cacophony of comments
reaching full engagement
it makes me remember why
why i wake at 4:44,
why i’ve given up weekends,
why i plan all summer
and come home each day
ready to drop dead from
an exhaustion so deep
it reaches into my soul
“this is a great topic, Miss.”
“what a question–so hard to answer.”
“today i actually like this class.”
today i actually like my job.
because those early hours,
lost weekends, lack of summer break,
they all pop up around me,
a cacophony of opportunity
to be the teacher i strive to be
