choices

Midday

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i carried three coffees
into work.
it was midday.
i had to walk around front,
give the guard a sheepish grin
(did he know i didn’t sign out,
that i just drove sixty miles
to drop off a test? did it matter?)
snow came down in flustered flurries,
sticky and wet on grimy windshield,
not enough to slow me down or make me smile

i was rushed and i was right
as i stood waiting
for incompetency to finish
erasing errant bubbles on
directions she didn’t listen to

i placed the drinks on desks,
was handed back tearful smiles
that carried my squeaky heels
down the hallway
to the next moment of time
that would not be mine,
that would never be mine,
and it didn’t matter–
i’d made one small part of the day
a bit more bearable.

Nothing Short of Art

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

we sit in central citified sun
sipping smoothies and lattes,
munching on freshly baked croissants
and chatting with strangers
on a day so warm it can’t be
the third week of January
(a beauty we all share
as we peel off our winter coats)

they skip alongside on an impromptu adventure,
moving along the zero street,
playing pig and picking out dates
on ovular stamps in concrete.

we enter the train store
and examine the pure wonder
of details so tiny, humans
standing knee-deep in plexiglass water,
monkeys climbing up a fallen-apart billboard,
and fast-moving trains. one declares,
it is nothing short of art

later i pedal into the wind
around the dam and up the hill
until i see the circular beauty of the lake,
and its curvacious path
interweaves me with a hundred pairs of legs,
all taking advantage
of this day like no other

before i am home
i am home,
and can almost forget
the tears whose all night sting
kept my eyes bleeding till morning,
the two dark, cold miles of separation,
and the hollowness of our words
that find their way
into the poems he wishes i wouldn’t write.

(Parenthetical)

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i don’t want a poem with pushed out words,
one that couldn’t capture the heated moment
of tears she keeps at the corners of her eyes,
a poem that pushes out unbelonging rhymes,
one that couldn’t draw a picture
of her head in my lap,
her sorrow seeping into my knees,
one that will tell me
(teacher’s note signed)
that my daughter has moved
from above average to average

i don’t want a poem
with pushed out thoughts
to taper my emotions back behind me
like my on-fire muscles during workouts,
riding up my back like a hot rope
that i will never pull tight enough

i want a poem like the songs i sing
(out of tune)
my own tears falling willingly
in the dark hours of morning
as i belt out lyrics
with the best of them,
my shaky voice
everything that is
inside and outside of me

i want a poem with well-formed words,
one that will sing to my soul,
make me remember this day
because it is like any other day
(it is unlike any other day)
i will only have it once,
and i want to grab that poem,
squeeze it in my palm,
and suck the bloody juice
until i can taste the truth
of the world found in imperfect poetry

Leftover Remnants of Gratitude

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

they are back:
our table engulfs
the full-bodied laughter
whose absence has lingered
like an invisible spirit

now i smile,
my heart full,
my tear-stained,
panic-pedaled drive
to the airport
all but forgotten

their words creep across
the bottle of wine,
the stuffing, turkey,
leftover remnants of gratitude,
and rest inside me.

i have ached all day,
all the long weekend,
for the vitality
i never knew existed
until they stepped off the plane
in their Abercrombie
and winter boots (in July),
blonde and dark,
a perfect mixture of beauty.

if only their exuberance
could fill all the empty places
in the lives that surround me,
the sadness that seeps into our souls
(is this an American epidemic?),
that keeps us from living the lives
we were promised we could live.

we all need to switch pajamas,
race down the hallway of the hotel,
trip and rug-burn our palms,
and head drunkenly towards the sex shop.
when we come home?
we will laugh until we cry,
we will remember that we can
live the lives we were promised to live.

Estamos Bien

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

mañana tenemos el
Acción de Día de Gracias tercera

he stands in an airport
with laughter at the back of his voice,
the emotion so close to tears
that they sit waiting
on the edges of my lids

estamos bien.
tenemos una avión mañana por la mañana

because we are all well
with them in our midst–
so un-American to be grateful
for a night longer,
a missed flight,
a smile that we’ve all tucked away
inside ourselves
(that he fishes out
as easily as catching
tadpoles on a hot June day)

Thanksgiving dos,
we sit and share thanks:
one of the four girls
mentions her extra parents
(the highlight of the evening)

i bring forth my Spaniards
(absent)
but with an ever-present influence
on every thought i have,
on every emotion that has crossed my heart
in the four short months
that i have made them mine

Isabella gives me the look
as if i could forget
the reason we are all gathered,
for without these four girls,
none of this happiness
could float in the room
carrying the
feliz día de los padres
mylar balloon
up to the ceiling,
zhuzhu pet attached,
miracle in place
(can you see it?)

and the Spaniards?
they would live somewhere else,
and our surrealistic vision
of tomorrow
would be so.
real.
so.
unimaginative.

instead?
i hear him laugh
about fumando el toro,
the night in the airport
and our third,
and final,
Thanksgiving meal.

A New Tomorrow

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

i will rise and wash away this day
i will remember yesterday
the passion that sandwiched
morning and night
the friendlovefriendlove
that has become my life
i will take my daughters’ words
embrace them in my arms
instead of throwing them back
i will be a new tomorrow

To-Do List

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

email daughter’s teacher
who doesn’t know how to read
pick up nuts
because i’m going crazy
learn Castilian Spanish
so i can speak to roommates
intervene in group work
for groups who won’t work
teach daughter to read
because schools don’t work
sit in meetings that don’t apply to me
so i can’t do my work
ride my bike to work
so i can see the moonset/sunrise
try to remember
that i cannot
make a list
that will quite
change the way the world works

With Perfect Fluency

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

you cannot speak
with perfect fluency
the language
that i need you to know.

the meanings
that hide like
costumed schoolgirls
behind curtains

the nuances
of masked words
that shadow the pain
behind your absence.

the many ways
we say i love you
that with your foreign ears
you seem unable to hear.

you cannot listen
with perfect fluency
to silence between the words
of the language
that i need you to know.

The Sun is High

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

the sun is high
young voices howl
the swing creaks
yet we lie here

i have no desire
to move from this bed,
to take my hand away
from your new goatee

oh how easy it is
to fall in love
with the morning
allowing us to stay

this is a dream
to wash away my nightmares
to feel my skin on your skin
to know you are mine

the sun is high
our plates are full
but there is time
always, for love

Sør Ås Bîk Clüb

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

she wears a jersey
that shames us all
What will you do
it asks,
on your 70th birthday?

this on mile sixty-two
a record high day
where we pop out fully cooked
from sauna port-o-lets,
strap on our stinky helmets,
and try to beat the sun home

jerseys mock me:
sør ås bîk clüb
biker chicks
(with matching nest pics)
Ride the Rockies
and every other place
i don’t quite fit

men in drag
weave themselves up and down,
stopping to fix flats
and pose for pictures,
their exuberant rainbow
of wigs, skorts, and fishnets
bringing welcome laughter

the day begins with a sea
of hot air balloons
decorating the mountain-backed sky
and ends with free lunch,
an all-girl band,
and women who know
just where the road can take us.