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!!!!
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.
standing room only
crowd hushed for collegiate speech
from a sixth grader
bright academics
the spotlight shines on this school
rainbow of world
social injustice
swept under a brave chorus
strict rules understood
forgotten pencil
equals hour detention?
path drawn to success
unified voices
remedy doubtful choices
good god let them sing
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
like a lost puppy
he waits every afternoon
hoping for some help
i enable him
wonder where his friends might be
knowing he has none
everyday struggles
of left-behind countries, wars
haunt my students’ lives
tomorrow, the same
i’ll give him the look; give in
heart too wrenched for no
i’ll carry work home
(not as heavy as his load)
pray peace will find us
survived another
harried nonstop dash Monday
give me winter break
if i’d a real job?
i’d go home early when sick
not pop pills to last
i’d go out to lunch
have adult conversations
away from all kids
how tiring talk
not filled with young undertones
would surely make me
instead i’ll take this:
endless work weeks, sick through some
needy happy kids
and yes, winter break
no holiday turmoil
my kids all around
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
timid youngest one
belts out her favorite chorus
shines when she’s on stage
middle girl hidden
by misplaced tall fourth grader
i still hear her sing
it won’t be long now
(and i pinch back dreaded thoughts)
this will be over
my oldest, seated
not with us, but with the friends
she has gained this year
how miraculous
to see her back to herself
facing the world
i faced eleven
in this auditorium
but i didn’t sing
three girls, different tunes
wonder where notes will lead them
back to me, i hope
pitiful attempt
to show the world justice
ditching the walkout
after school, they beg
for classwork i can’t explain
in four short minutes
but the ones who stayed
sit, work with me for hours
tackling learning
one interrupts us
asking where the food bank is
to feed his family
i’m taken aback
a perfect student, born here
why is he hungry?
then, the Taliban:
lost her mother in Iran
falling off a horse
social injustice
propels their failed walkout day
served up after school
a dish to take home
a harder bite to swallow
as schools save us all
challenging poses
stave off pre-holiday cold
virus can’t beat me
candy-scented home
bowls brimming with sugar dreams
homage to his mom
girls learn gift giving
how to think beyond themselves
wrapped in red ribbon
i’d wrap happiness
and place it under the tree
if it would save them
childhood rules us
far beyond its eighteen years
may theirs be happy
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