parenting

Peaks

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

if i could take those peaks,
the rays of sunlight streaming,
snatch them up from my desktop pic,
from the hands that formed them

if i could have the magical hands
that shaped this imperfect world
then perhaps i could put in perspective
the shame that hovers darker than clouds,
blocks those rays from reaching my heart.

but i can’t. i’m not God, nor have the magic
that you so desire, that seeps out of her eyes
with remorse for my harsh words, her unveiling,
that sends you to bed with night two of anguish.

if i could take those peaks,
those rays of sunlight in my hands,
i would wash our sins with the elevated air,
reshape who you are in my eyes,
release the shame from both of our souls.

My Dear

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i wish i could move my fingers
across the banjo with
the flair
the spin
the genius
the beautiful British accent
the perfection
the speed

but i can’t.
i can only spin these tires
new shoes clipped in
and ride until my breath escapes me
and try to remember
what i’m good at

which isn’t much,
being the mother of
that student,
the talk-about-in-teachers’-lounge
grumble-about-apathetic-parents
wish-you-didn’t-have-in-your-class
student

at least i can pretend to sing
like Mumford & Sons
and admit
I REALLY FUCKED IT UP THIS TIME,
DIDN’T I, MY DEAR??

Pain to Peace

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i step inside to tears
worthy of sudden death,
three red-eyed girls
limp with want,
unable to spill the tale.

my heart jumps into my veins.
“where’s Daddy?” i pop out.
“what’s wrong?”
but tears and moans
fill the gaping holes
of longing.

their pain is my panic.
i pull them into my arms,
sing them songs,
wait for the story to sift through
the tormented version of truth
their small minds will allow.

he enters, patient but done,
his version highly revised,
worthy of publication.
with girls in arms,
books on laps,
words and pictures from pages,
hugs and kisses goodnight,
we move from pain to peace.

Tie

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

with these books,
their warm legs,
my voice,
the frazzled day
melts away.
we forget how many times
they argued over
who sat where
what toothpaste to use
whose turn it was on the iPad
and remember
the comforting magic of
words and pictures
that tie together
everything we think
might fall apart.

Me

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

i don’t want to be here.
i’m good at this.
i’ve read enough
to share stories and articles
with my co-teachers,
have taught enough
to take over their lessons on the fly,
remember her words enough
to stand at the front and teach
while simultaneously seeing students
for who they really are,
can move through classrooms
and schedules with
hauntingly smooth ease,
can grade a stack of 150
short constructed responses
before the state test is over
and still take the time
to cry a little when i see
how poor a student’s score will be

but i cannot
i cannot
take the tears out of my four-year-old’s eyes
after the rushed-morning goodbye,
the words i cannot take back,
the days
the months
the years
i cannot take back,
the me
(the mommy me)
who i fear will never be as good
as the me
who walks down these hallways.

Missed

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

what have i missed
with the words that won’t end,
what smile or giggle
did my daughters try to send?

how can i allow
your endless conversation
to suck up my night
with this awkward situation?

if he would do his work
and you would let it go
then perhaps we wouldn’t have to
fill our worry-carts with woe.

but no one here seems to care
that waiting is not enough
that sloth and slacking are rewarded
–hard work a dire rebuff.

what have i missed
with the words that never end
that haunt my insomnia
with a world i cannot mend?

February Daughters (2011)

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

Isabella

infinitesimally eight
you round out your three-day weekend
with consecutive sleepovers
endless games and dives
at Casa Bonita
and round-the-block singing
of Girl Scout songs
in your train of Brownie vests.

infinitesimally eight
i hope you will remember
this bright moment
of your youth
with these words you will
someday read.

Mythili

Mixing in with the older set
Yearning for forever-gone blankey
True to your matter-of-fact words
Heatedly demanding justice
Imaginative to no end
Loving the art that shapes your life
Inundated with the realities of school.

Riona

tears and sobs take control of you
at the mere mention of Daddy’s death
a death unknown, far-reaching
and my arms can’t console
the sensitive child
who needs to nestle
in his shoulder,
dentist-forbidden thumb in mouth,
your cries simmering down
to the ever emanating warmth
of his love for you,
his Daddy’s Girl.

Homecoming

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

today could be
that night after Homecoming
lying on the floor
of her room
when you and i whispered
into the night,
our teenage angst
spilling out
like blood on the carpet,
revealing our souls,
sealing our friendship.

they play at our feet now,
interrupt our talk
with nursing needs
finding toy needs
food on the table needs,
but our mouths
spill out words
in a rush of
it’s-been-too-long
and
it’ll-never-be-long-enough.

and just as your oldest
and my youngest
find their comfortable niche
of bug-and-Tinker-Toy play,
you and i,
just like that night after Homecoming
when you moved from friend to best,
fulfill our needs
girl-like, loose,
our old and new selves
coming home
at last.

Tickets

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

yes you have tickets
and you ask permission
as if i have a choice

i clutch the silver plastic
letting the words fall
in between the lines

your tickets were for us
but just as back then
you teach me exchange rates

i wonder what we are worth
or how much you paid for them
does it even matter to you?

Whisper

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

funny how you mask yourself
for their protection
and i wear the button
proudly on my jacket,
picture-whispering
my beliefs for all to see.

when your thoughts
bubble up out of you
in an eruption of disparity
from the tight-necked clothes
you’ve kept around you,
the lava stings my view
of who i thought you were.

you wait for molten rock
to form as ash settles,
but i am trapped underneath
the red flow from your mantle,
unable to break through the crack
in the crust you chose to expose,
unable to even whisper what i see.