survived another
harried nonstop dash Monday
give me winter break
if i’d a real job?
i’d go home early when sick
not pop pills to last
i’d go out to lunch
have adult conversations
away from all kids
how tiring talk
not filled with young undertones
would surely make me
instead i’ll take this:
endless work weeks, sick through some
needy happy kids
and yes, winter break
no holiday turmoil
my kids all around
simple notes played out
behind the spotlight, hard work
immeasurable
extreme poverty
keeps parents from saving sons
live to work and die
but ten beats away
greed scalpels addicted souls
work to live and die
the aches and fevers
mid-week stay-with-me stresses
medicine won’t work
she came in a dream
all better (never better)
if only the truth
i hate trapped secrets
the solid weight of her truth
worth liquefying
they have stopped asking
bless the sick season for that
(she’ll be sick for life)
losing a baby,
making candy memories,
alcoholism:
all life sentences
that never bring forth the dream
that they’d imagined
she asks to cuddle
begs for me to put down work
endless hard choices
pitiful attempt
to show the world justice
ditching the walkout
after school, they beg
for classwork i can’t explain
in four short minutes
but the ones who stayed
sit, work with me for hours
tackling learning
one interrupts us
asking where the food bank is
to feed his family
i’m taken aback
a perfect student, born here
why is he hungry?
then, the Taliban:
lost her mother in Iran
falling off a horse
social injustice
propels their failed walkout day
served up after school
a dish to take home
a harder bite to swallow
as schools save us all
challenging poses
stave off pre-holiday cold
virus can’t beat me
candy-scented home
bowls brimming with sugar dreams
homage to his mom
girls learn gift giving
how to think beyond themselves
wrapped in red ribbon
i’d wrap happiness
and place it under the tree
if it would save them
childhood rules us
far beyond its eighteen years
may theirs be happy
Friday afternoon
lights fall to meet autumn nights
but you are not here
knowing, my heart aches
secrecy’s not my style
but brutal truth hurts
i’d take back the words
but they’re lost in confession
forgiven, lost, here
just as you should be
beside me with hugs in hand
building my haiku
instead she shows me
engraved Jack Daniels bottle
twenty-one years out
i tell her i’ll cry
and write her a poem later
about that bottle
never in his mouth
infancy or twenty-one
may he rest in peace
you and i would cry
after she left us drinking
but you’re not here, friend
the way the world works
i won’t have you beside me
twenty-one years out
flooded by piles
poorly-written papers burn
insides of my eyes
my stalking student
piles breakfast, lunch, dinner
always needing help
close and lock the door
is what the experts tell me
what if that were me?
i bring home piles
that pile bags under eyes
and work in silence
quick pasta dinner
vibrant girls’ homework piles
i rush to the gym
breathe in, then breathe out
my body piles relief
yoga saves the day
i learned there’s no guilt
like the guilt of motherhood
my Tuesday lesson
tossing and turning
don’t turn remorse into gold
they make me feel old
whispers in the hall
worse than when i was in school
oh wait–i’m here. school.
we mock others’ pain
forgetting our own swallows
mixed up with sorrows
three deaths, intervention
wrap up semester’s longing
for life, a new life
we all want sunsets
bright red-circle memories
to bring back our youth
then we’d be in school
that captive institution
we couldn’t flee from
my Tuesday lesson:
mouth shut, sunsets disappear
mouth open, truth shines
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