Modeled after “Harlem” by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream unrealized?
Does it disappear
like the morning mist?
Or wallow in sorrow
like a lover unkissed?
Does it bubble up
like a blister from a burn?
Or fall to ashes
like a loved one in an urn?
Maybe it just weeps
like a lost child.
Or does it run wild?
icy wonderland
perfect for dolls and yoga
warm inside Sunday
wrapped up for movies
stovetop cinnamon popcorn
cuddles all around
this is what love is
the everyday joys measured
with quiet moments
he will not forgive
shuns me in once warm places
i will not forget
in tears, she begs me
just get them started–i can’t–
grief bursts into halls
all papers graded
i read Spanish in silence
wait for final bell
a windy walk home
trailed by one-car dilemma
my cyclist shines
headlamp, gloves ready
January? my mistress
cycle through my stress
my peace offering:
the book he wanted to read
(he puts me on stage)
humiliate me?
i crave the Spanish smiles
he doesn’t know me
a windy ride home
cold clings to my clothes with hugs
cheeks on girls’ warm cheeks
this brief moment here
is all i’ve seen them today
my cycle spins on
Modeled after “Success is Counted Sweetest” by Emily Dickinson
Sobriety is counted sweetest
by those who never drink
to never know that poison
would allow you always think
Not one of all the drinkers
would admit that this is true
The devil’s tongue inside the drink
is what gives them joy anew
But if you’ve saved your soul
and avoided all the bars
You’ll have a peaceful life
and not toast your soul to stars
wind and commitment
to ski, to time i don’t have
(nor money… either)
grumpy beginnings
end with every ten feet stops
and i want to quit
but then i’m alone
and make this my mountain home
if only a day
their end-of-day grins
make me rethink my lost time
lost heart, yes… now won
Modeled after “Stopping in the Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost
Whose house this is I think I know
His wealth is in his business though
He will not see me nosing in
Or what news I’ll take when I go.
My little girls must think it odd
To stop here, so detached from God
Where money rules the heart’s desire,
To darkest greed he gives a nod.
They pull my wrists and ask to leave
And wonder why it is I grieve
The only other sound’s the truck
That brings his gold out to his sieve
The house is lovely, tall, and grand
But I will not lose where I stand:
With them I have the upper hand,
With them I have the upper hand.
Modeled after “The Debt” by Paul Laurence Dunbar
that moment of giving in
when you know it is a sin
you taste the sweetest nectar
though it makes you a liar
too soon the taste is sour
all because of one hour
exalting joyous moment
will always be monument
then, it washed away your pain
hidden joy was found again
now, the pain’s here forever
if you’d known… you would never.
we’ll never be friends
i mean, she’s just too damn rich
(she’s so nice, i think)
but conversations
that end play dates in our ‘hood
put us in our place
it’s finally done!
it took so long to finish!
now the kids can play!
(unrelated: us
two basement woes, money lost
to floods and landlords)
million-dollar homes
do not need finished basements
but she won’t see that
and we’ll never talk
beyond the superficial
(it’s kept underground)
now the kids can play
1000 square feet: more space
between us and them
dreaded decision
of a home no longer ours
that’s not worth selling
with caution we’ll choose
the path that sets in motion
the rest of our lives
please, a pinch of luck
for the money pit shadow
bought by newlyweds
bring it under light
to shine on our new knowledge
of how the world works
i won’t give in here
too early, too adamant
a long semester
they need the structure
in walls unlike those at home
where they’re free as birds
they’ll hate me for it
but learning is needed more
than a text message
but how their wrath wins
with flippant parents’ lose tongues,
lack of discipline
my daily fight ends
with bickering daughters, cries,
skipping yoga class
table talk of love
afterward: apologies,
coloring, and peace
i will give in here
love lies deeper, lasts longer
flies free as a bird
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