how it haunts her
aching and bright
a flash in the night
how it haunts her
taunting and cruel
calling her fool
how it teases
sneaky and mean
defiling the clean
how it teases
quick and abrupt
her heart now corrupt
how it breaks her
shatters and bits
degrading her wits
how it breaks her
blades and fires
lost with desires
how it heals her
sorrows and loss
rock-bottom moss
how it heals her
beginnings and ends
renewal ascends.
caked in dirt as thick as frosting,
dripping in young-blooded sweat,
hand-carved spears cutting the air,
savage screams of hungry hunters,
sparkling laughter thrown into the wind,
they emerge from the forested fort.
not once in forty-eight hours
have iPodiPadMacBookCellPhone
inundated their young blood
(nor our old blood)
and without a single complaint,
we gather them together so
caked in sticky white clouds of s’mores,
campfire-smoke-ridden clothing and skin,
hot metal spears cutting into the ash,
thrilled screams of sugar highs,
sparkling laughter thrown into the stars,
they emerge from the perfect weekend.
it’s the witching hour
and here, all across town,
evils have worked their way into
the darkness engulfing us.
as quiet as a kitten snuffling
against the door, she whispers
that she is sick,
that she needs help.
with ginger hands we strip
off her sodden clothes,
and i run a washcloth under
water so hot it might sting her.
up and down her small body
i wipe away the illness, then
slip the clean nightgown over
her head in one anxious movement.
the new (old) bed in the green room awaits.
she crawls in and i whisper,
Do you want me to lie here with you?
she whimpers and nods, words lost.
i ask her to move over a bit,
but before i have slid in beside her,
she has inched her body wholly
against mine, her fingers on my face.
When you were a baby, I say,
the tears already sliding down my cheeks,
we used to share this bed every night,
just you and me, girl.
he comes in, offers to replace me,
but he can see the tracks down my cheeks,
her tiny fingers on my chin,
and without another word,
leaves us in our bed of sorrow, love.
i may not see it through their eyes
or feel it through their legs
but the mountain lures me
and i can already sense the wind at my back
hear the spinning rubber on pavement
the thin air tightening in my lungs
and the sweet smell of pine calling me home.
it may seem crazy (and it always is with me)
but i will chase that train
climb that mountain
win that race
if only for my legs
my eyes
my heart.
with a pedal of determination
i will be just like the little blue engine
of my youth,
thinking my way to the top
thinking
thinking
thinking
all. the. way. down
to where everything tastes
better on the other side of the mountain.
you may have taken it once
but now you slide it into my palm
like a shiny new silver coin
cold and sleek against the nerve endings
i clutch it with my fingertips,
pressing, hoping it will soak up
our bodies’ heat.
(we can pretend) that you really did
snatch that shining circle out of the sky
years back or months ago
it is ours now
i open my fingers and place it
on the rough center of my tongue
(despite my efforts, its purity
keeps it cool in my mouth)
you want a taste
and its light encircles us in the yard
crickets singing love songs
wind tickling the still-summer leaves
stars peeking out, competing for room
distant traffic reminding us where we are
(we are here, we are here, we are here!)
i give it to you
the silver circle that you know i love
that we love together
and with our lips open (our hearts open)
we pass our moon back and forth.
the cold seeps away, draining into the bed
of warmth, of love we have created here tonight.
i sit in their shadow
despite trying to move into the sun
first with my young marriage
then with my tight wallet,
my need to clean,
to be educated,
to let them be what they will be.
i look across at him
hand on top of his.
we nod in inebriated agreement
(they’ll be OK, they are free)
even if we can’t see them
scamper like rabbits
in and out of bushes
living their childhood dreams
while we enjoy our
own brief moment of peace.
we stand to leave
calling their names
like an old song
we’ve sung a thousand times,
and here
without a playground,
a few measly dollars spent,
no other kids in sight,
they moan, beg to stay.
he and i,
we stand in my parents’ shadow
with our young marriage,
our tight wallet,
our need for them to be
who they are going to be
so that we may be
who we are going to be:
us.
there will never be enough
hours in the day
or minutes within the hours
or muscles within my legs
to accomplish what I need.
instead, I ought to sit back,
sip on the sweet nectar of my microbrew,
enjoy watching the kids burn calories,
and watch the sun settle itself
amidst the purple mountain majesties.
but even with too-short days and
too-sore muscles, and
as sweet as a beer may be,
it will never be as sweet
as the day I claim my victory.
if you could see my day
for an actual day
(never just ten minutes)
ribbons of confusion
would dance across your eyes
(your feet might dance too)
you would see how it moves
from smooth and easy
(perfection at its best)
to a conglomerate of
chaotic preteen desire
mixed with teacherly sarcasm
you would see them
for who they really are
(see me for who I really am)
and you would know
you would actually know
when what I say is right.
but
i will accept your
harried commentary
(we are all harried)
if you can accept
a compliment that
everyone knows
everyone, everyone knows
(the one thing they hate to know)
is the truth.
they are amazing
amazing amazing
and some day
(if you could see my day,
my actual day)
you, too, will know this.
it’s nice to hear a bit of cheer
when sometimes darkness chimes
to know a student can be prudent,
despite the wrath, choose the right path
i am beguiled by what was worthwhile
the mighty pen led him in
now med school awaits his tools
i hope one day he’ll come to say
that education is the way.
standing between this moment and that one
we’ve drawn an imperceptible line
(only our hearts can see it)
how it hovers over us
darkness enveloping
the light we should share
standing between this moment and that one
i can still see the other moment
(it is mine, it is ours)
and i want to take a giant eraser
and clear the board
of every line
every imperceptible line
that ever has
that ever will
that forever will never
divide us.
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