the space between
when that light counts down
and how sore my muscles will be
is immeasurable
but i can measure the speed
of my tires through
the intersection
a dream in the making
i beat the limit
and make it in time
to hear thrilled immeasurable
screams of my beauties
you cannot speak
with perfect fluency
the language
that i need you to know.
the meanings
that hide like
costumed schoolgirls
behind curtains
the nuances
of masked words
that shadow the pain
behind your absence.
the many ways
we say i love you
that with your foreign ears
you seem unable to hear.
you cannot listen
with perfect fluency
to silence between the words
of the language
that i need you to know.
the sun is high
young voices howl
the swing creaks
yet we lie here
i have no desire
to move from this bed,
to take my hand away
from your new goatee
oh how easy it is
to fall in love
with the morning
allowing us to stay
this is a dream
to wash away my nightmares
to feel my skin on your skin
to know you are mine
the sun is high
our plates are full
but there is time
always, for love
from the window
i hear a scream,
a bloodcurdling cry
and the baby spatting
at the middle child,
I didn’t bite you
as hard as you bit me!
this after ten miles
for my eight-year-old’s legs
pedaling like a pro
along a creek-crowded path,
hula-hooping for the band
while the little ones
played imaginary games
in the trailer
and i think,
wet dishes from grandmotherly
meal in hand,
how is it that i must discipline
this moment of violence
when i cannot keep
the smile from my face?
with these feet
you will pound it out
you will remember your childhood
your hand in his
you will run
run past the wind
as the moment
you last saw him
slides into your subconscious
and he becomes a part
of every step you take.
she wears a jersey
that shames us all
What will you do
it asks,
on your 70th birthday?
this on mile sixty-two
a record high day
where we pop out fully cooked
from sauna port-o-lets,
strap on our stinky helmets,
and try to beat the sun home
jerseys mock me:
sør ås bîk clüb
biker chicks
(with matching nest pics)
Ride the Rockies
and every other place
i don’t quite fit
men in drag
weave themselves up and down,
stopping to fix flats
and pose for pictures,
their exuberant rainbow
of wigs, skorts, and fishnets
bringing welcome laughter
the day begins with a sea
of hot air balloons
decorating the mountain-backed sky
and ends with free lunch,
an all-girl band,
and women who know
just where the road can take us.
i sent the words
(there were clicks–
not yours)
i spent the time
(there were chips–
dark chocolate)
you didn’t respond
you couldn’t read
the words too thick
the chips already melted
you left them there for me
and i placed new words
under the light
words they shared in your absence
it was strange
having you walk in like that
not quite sure
if you should use your own words
or listen to ours
you waited
i wrote
(i always do)
you flipped off the light
that let them see
what i had written
in your usual manner
you ad-libbed
they laughed their usual laughs
but i managed to
feel less small
knowing they shared words with me
you stood in the back
video on
asking me a favor
(the chocolate
sitting in a back room
unrequested)
i took your center cut
put it in the microwave
and melted it for a perfect sundae
you won’t say a word
you will never know
just how warm
how perfectly cold
it tasted as i took my words
and swallowed them
handwritten prices
on the grocery list
categorizing ingredients,
a spouse’s scrupulous pen
(cocoa: $2.76
chocolate chips: $2.38
it goes on)
several summer nightmares,
a bitter blog post,
and the hollowness
that can only come
with the absence of words
their bright faces
and innocent remarks,
the commentary carried
down the corridor,
begging for more
the bland baked cakes
from someone’s mix
hand in hand with
Friday’s sacred sweet desire
all the times
that can’t be added up
with calculators
of when they made a day,
saved a life,
or satisfied a fix
the small hands
that crack the eggs,
the small voice
that recites the recipe,
reminding me
once again
that from first bite
to last,
i am giving a taste
of chocolate
with an immeasurable price.
i don’t want to think
of your new pink backpack,
your hand-me-down uniform,
or your first steps into kindergarten.
wasn’t it just yesterday
that we swung you in the car seat
into the hospital elevator,
calling you Mythili by mistake?
how can we move from birthday
to first day of school in one week?
it’s too much for this old mom,
this worked-through-baby-years mom.
but it will have to be.
tomorrow’s the big day,
the beginning of the endless
letting goes that you and i must face.
we were strangers.
i was afraid.
you could kill me with your cracks,
i could lose myself in you–
you are high and low,
curvacious and straight-laced,
everything in between.
you think you can beat me,
sometimes with wind,
other times extremities
of heat, cold
stinging my skin,
beckoning me with your endless gray.
we are no longer strangers,
you and i.
friends is too weak a word.
intimate companions
who share the sunrise view,
are tickled first by snow,
who see each other’s secrets.
so i will pound harder,
fearless now,
and pedal all the way down,
gravity and every last crack
you’ve tried to hide
exposed by the love
that has grown between us.
