you said that before
the phrase defining rim walk
(how short, flat, this hike)
one day they will know
that we live thirteen hours
from the Grand Canyon
thirteen million years
of miracles waiting here
beyond this short hike
they’ll remember this
(and Eiffel, Spain, Porto, love)
all we’ve given them
the hike will seem short
flat, greenway, wheelchair-friendly
so easy, this life
thirteen years a mom
they’ll remember this spring break
miracles in view
torn between worlds
oldest loves her phone, sisters
gives in, goes to bed
she watches their play
with a slightly jealous eye
fantasy now lost
found only in books
or over a campfire
she joins them in tent
she still loves camping
sets the table like Mama
an organized queen
she gives in to catch,
to wood-walking fantasy
(Riona’s a horse)
(but she’s almost me
we share the same shoe size now
her eyes switch places)
if i could capture
her in my womb (my last trip
to the Grand Canyon)
she’d be my baby
in my belly, on my back
trails, trials of love
the moon’s almost there
as are we, building marriage
us: more than half full
road trip to heaven
with a colorado drive
blue sky sunset dream
inbox second chance
two weeks too late, money spent
hope revealed, heart lost
i want to find home
with work that’s my second home
please just show me how
no more promises
that crush dreams i’ve long carried
with your inbox lies
i came home to you
my city, my youth, my school
don’t betray me now
show me you have grown
built truths from these high prices
that surround me now
please just show me how
fill my inbox with one hope:
second chance success
with tear jerking news
the week is only half done
endings everywhere
i’d pray for results
or let blind faith lead the way
to next day’s surprise?
everything behind
these heart-wrenching decisions
twists inside my soul
letting go: an art
i haven’t mastered just yet
please show me the way
weekend redemption
the ice cream cones they wanted
the park joy for me
they’re so up and down
i could forget sunny skies
but then, why should i?
clouds will always move
but the sun burns heaven-bright
on their childhood
this parenting age
with their school-age arguments
is harder for me
i’d take diapers, cries
over back talk, bickering
that leaves me crying
parenthood lesson:
it never gets easier
heartbreaking my days
four hours of tests
in this windowless hell fest
Spanish comes to mind
lunch union meeting
complaints about white privilege
first world problems
(i want to tell them
comparison is joy’s thief
but they won’t listen)
afternoon calls home
to parents of failing kids
Spanish practice dos
then video view
lesson to evaluate
slim chance at progress
audio walk home
on a windswept cloudy March
words too fast to grasp
(Alice wonders why–
in Carroll’s Spanish version
–so many choices)
then daughters’ chess meet
and oldest’s plea for pi day
(dough pulled from freezer)
kitchen now stolen
by eggs, bowls and pastry cream
we drive to Wahoo’s
kids eat free tonight
run wild while hipsters drink
(we rush home to bake)
tripod ends my night
(yoga the only answer
to this chaos)
and now i’m writing
resolution of ideas
not broken by tests
renewal of youth
snow melts a fresh round of spring
riding carousels
why wouldn’t you want
to see their sunny faces
romping through the zoo?
i don’t understand
ask peace from yoga nightcap
after goodnight hugs
i won’t stop writing
or being the mom i am
my words hang, waiting
you’ll analyze them
and wish that things were different
when they’re just the same
perfection scares me
i’d rather be secondhand
not worry for stains
for we are all marked
by the pieces that make us whole
glued together here
in this photo, see?
her eyes are my eyes, your eyes
wild through and through
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