city officials planned my afternoon,
marking a triangular pink line
ready for tomorrow’s slaughter
(for an inclusive world)
the girls and i set to work,
abandoned wagon in tow,
trip after trip filled with rocks and rhubarb
ready to be salvaged
in neat lines we laid our stones,
replanted our ripe-ready fruit,
made easy plans for controlling mulch
and baking tart spring pies
the girls ran off with new neighbors
(one stayed behind to lend muscle and wheelbarrow)
and my workout was taken over
by heavy lifting and a dream house
poetry
Sprung Upon
Behind the Classroom Door
what seems like brightness
is a trick to bring more heat
to this hot classroom
what a way to start–
climb on toes, on stool, on desk
to shut those damn blinds
just one sacrifice
like the hundreds daily made
by every teacher
(and who designed these??
thirteen-foot-high hell windows,
bastards of the sun?)
this is my Wednesday:
rise before dawn to face light
i’d rather not see
Pluck the Season
Naughty Cat
Happy Mother’s Day
Refocus
Awake at 5:00 a.m.
Differentiation
some write, some listen
some read, some dance, and some talk
(yet they’re all learning)
a perfect mix of
our differentiation:
(managed/mismanaged)
i’ve learned to let go
thirteen years into teaching
and let them lead me
Enlightenment
beyond the blue dawn,
the stop lights, houses, traffic–
pink mountain sunrise
it’s like their love poems–
so cheesy; adolescent;
(in their second tongue)
Silverstein turned down
so they could find their own muse
and make my Wednesday
they practice reading,
words chopped by heavy accents;
beautiful and sharp
i can see clearly
the pink peaks; hear soft words lost
behind busy streets
it’s the glimpse of hope
caught in this lens, in their voices
that’s worth stopping for



















