Ski Time

wind and commitment
to ski, to time i don’t have
(nor money… either)

grumpy beginnings
end with every ten feet stops
and i want to quit

but then i’m alone
and make this my mountain home
if only a day

their end-of-day grins
make me rethink my lost time
lost heart, yes… now won

2015/01/img_7151.jpg

Stopping by a Mansion in my Neighborhood

Modeled after “Stopping in the Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost

Whose house this is I think I know
His wealth is in his business though
He will not see me nosing in
Or what news I’ll take when I go.

My little girls must think it odd
To stop here, so detached from God
Where money rules the heart’s desire,
To darkest greed he gives a nod.

They pull my wrists and ask to leave
And wonder why it is I grieve
The only other sound’s the truck
That brings his gold out to his sieve

The house is lovely, tall, and grand
But I will not lose where I stand:
With them I have the upper hand,
With them I have the upper hand.

That Moment

Modeled after “The Debt” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

that moment of giving in
when you know it is a sin
you taste the sweetest nectar
though it makes you a liar

too soon the taste is sour
all because of one hour
exalting joyous moment
will always be monument

then, it washed away your pain
hidden joy was found again
now, the pain’s here forever
if you’d known… you would never.

Marade

small signs and short legs
blue sky memories of faith
some fear is slipping

but in children’s eyes:
perfect for play and joy
humanity’s rainbow

if we could all climb
to the top of the goal post
his dream would come true

not just a Marade
a gathering of lost souls
hoping for what’s right

with their eyes, see it:
the world he wanted. Here.
not a shot fired.

2015/01/img_7138.jpg

2015/01/img_7142.jpg

2015/01/img_7146.jpg

2015/01/img_7140.jpg

2015/01/img_7148.jpg

Underground

we’ll never be friends
i mean, she’s just too damn rich

(she’s so nice, i think)

but conversations
that end play dates in our ‘hood
put us in our place

it’s finally done!
it took so long to finish!
now the kids can play!

(unrelated: us
two basement woes, money lost
to floods and landlords)

million-dollar homes
do not need finished basements
but she won’t see that

and we’ll never talk
beyond the superficial
(it’s kept underground)

now the kids can play
1000 square feet: more space
between us and them

Ring Tones

why do i hear bells
far-off church in my bedroom
while i try to sleep?

is it divine light
keeping me awake at night
or stress, magnified?

(i recall the bells
ringing love in Michelen–
Belgian waffle day

chocolate, Belgian beer
no words for: straight from the source
and the bell college

chiming through the square
an echo i can’t forget
haunting, pleasing me)

this isn’t Poe’s poem
oh but the bells, bells, bells, bells!!
chocolate for my soul

2015/01/img_7136.jpg

2015/01/img_7137.jpg

The Housing Mark

dreaded decision
of a home no longer ours
that’s not worth selling

with caution we’ll choose
the path that sets in motion
the rest of our lives

please, a pinch of luck
for the money pit shadow
bought by newlyweds

bring it under light
to shine on our new knowledge
of how the world works

Evening Prayers

middle girl yoga
next to me in our small space
sisters couch cuddle

breathe into the night
find the pose that suits you best
family namaste

Two Birds… Different Stones

i won’t give in here
too early, too adamant
a long semester

they need the structure
in walls unlike those at home
where they’re free as birds

they’ll hate me for it
but learning is needed more
than a text message

but how their wrath wins
with flippant parents’ lose tongues,
lack of discipline

my daily fight ends
with bickering daughters, cries,
skipping yoga class

table talk of love
afterward: apologies,
coloring, and peace

i will give in here
love lies deeper, lasts longer
flies free as a bird

Bent

a mental illness
keeps his secret behind doors
his goal: expose her

but she’s not hiding.
this stigma needs to end. Now.
no more closets, please

she needs compassion
a face grinning with the truth
not a pack of lies

you see, she’s unpacked
the weight loss feels amazing
and eye-opening

if he could see it
he wouldn’t stigmatize her
rather, open doors

yet whispers bend us,
the burden of exposure
too oft hard to bear

if his berating
bends her toward the bottle now
he’s unforgiven

no handsome smile
can bend me back to his side
may her freedom sing