Cartagena blues
teasing me with memories
soldier guarding life
here i am, snowbound
(silent beauty winter)
biting cold, warm home
i could take this pic
right there next to that palm tree
basque in Spain sun
but i am here now
family on every corner
tongue out for snowflakes
tasted continents
on either side of the sea
and i am home now
our boots squeak with snow
light as sparkling feathers
quiet city streets
middle one agrees
to traipse in winter beauty
so much like her mom
this brings me to peace
from sleepless, sorrowful nights
my words lost, then found
like our snowy prints
only seen from right behind
otherwise ignored
my most precious gift
recorded for all my life
despised by loved ones
perhaps she will walk
behind my wordy footsteps
her write to escape
for now, quiet snow
i accept what i can’t change
and keep on writing
my far-off cousin
the brother i never had
how i love, miss him
her comments swallowed
like the Christmas morn semen
cranberry juice, please
i’m not defensive
just wish for white Christmases
like everyone else
i can win this game
Cards Against Humanity
with my best haiku
five girls are sleeping
in my parents’ bungalow
i love my city
my favorite movie
It’s a Wonderful Life, YES!!
live and Live and LIVE!!!!
as they grow older
it’s no longer life and death
over midnight cries
now? supply, demand
business modeled parenting
what if we run out?
what can i buy or give
to make them happy, love me?
which–time or gifts?
it’s never enough
they’re either spoiled or loved
often hard to tell
give them the world
so they’ll toss it back to me
demand better one
it’s human nature
to aspire for what’s not there
i’m never enough
love should be enough
i’m up nights loving too much
(they never see this)
as they grow older
i miss the crying days when
i knew they loved me
a hug was enough
to make it through a tough time
and they were all mine
no one will say this
they’ll say how much easier
they’re independent
independent, yes
from our once easy embrace
to face life’s demands
and to demand more
to make me question myself
will this be enough?
no simple response
to parenthood dilemmas
enough guilt tonight
lattice top apple
laid by a baking expert
five years of hard work
culinary school?
kitchens of Denver and Spain
dough soft as her cheek
yes, she was just three
her first try in our kitchen
all to be near me
i can’t buy her dreams
or make Santa come to life
but i’ll give her that
i looked back because of the hits
and there were no haikus
no strict syllable limitations
to the words he watches me hold back
just the brutality of me
full force. in my middle girl’s words
spoken so harshly in the witching hour
that’s how it was then.
poetry without borders, PWB
just doesn’t work the same as DWB
though the after-effect?
like bourbon to the virgin
you would know if you’d been there.
you’d know how painfully dangerous
that hot liquid could burn your soul.
and he would stop. the car.
that’s how bad.
because you reading this?
and all the rest of the non-stalking world?
if you had him at home?
you wouldn’t carry that demon.
it would be buried. six feet under.
and you’d walk the city streets
and set free your child and live
live
live
like every moment was your last.
another stressed day
just before Christmas bustle
lost to this sickness
tears fresh this morning
frozen pond glistening dawn
star-studded boathouse
guilt trailing my job
as he rushed home, two sick girls
and me? meetings, plans
she came back today
babyless, unpacking shelves
repacking her life
her despondence stung
i couldn’t leave her alone
burdened with boxes
we made plans, had lunch
I got your card, she told me
we’re not sending any
no family photo
for his first, never Christmas
(this is what i hear)
but she won’t say that,
leaves me lines to read between
your girls’ pic was great
her grief in all words
she tells of Christmas-free plans
prepared to move on
this i carry home
with oldest’s three earned awards
to my handsome chef
his job ends next week
i won’t worry who’ll nurse them
and make chicken soup
noodles fall from spoons
and girls, all better, delight
priceless remedy
now they’ll discuss me
what will he do now, and you?
i’ll have no answer
only the safety
of the home he makes for us
beyond what they see
mother’s midnight dance:
rinse puke from stuffies and sheets
listen for gag sounds
hazy dose of job
sick grandma cares for sick girl
while sick husband works
cycle never ends
grandmother mother daughter
through sickness, health
mother’s twilight dance:
six laundry loads, leave sick girl
in hands now soft, warm
sleep? a silent joke
stolen from night, afternoon
thieves, our mothers’ love
there is no measure
for a refugee’s story
it starts where yours ends
to gather the words
thick Asian-Afro-accents?
world peace in ears
just open your heart
your eyes your gut, God your soul
and you will hear them
bleeding through parties
drives across suburban hell
and comedy works
you will hear their cry
their mothers’ and fathers’ cries
and yes, you will cry
it’s the cry that springs
open the dead ache inside
oft named white privilege
please, measure their words
bring back those crossed continents
good Lord, bring them home
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