truth

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.

Song

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

the beat is in the background
subtle
wavering
but i can still hear it.

instrumentals move in
twangy
sweet
vocals pounding microphone.

lyrics flow (honey from mouth)
stretched
anticipatory
words that try to hide it.

a breath, a moment without verse
ba-dum
ba-dum
breaking through the song.

i wait for the beat to take over
penetrating
impregnable
for you to hear what i hear.

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.

Unsatisfactory

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

You deserve a poem
for your partial proficiency.

You deserve all the words
that you take from our mouths,
that you tell us to tear down
from our walls,
that you banish from our rooms
in the form of literature
(the very thing you dare assess)

for the lock-and-key,
starve-and-dehydrate,
Nazification of a test
you put on a pedestal,
a test they all detest,
for which they could care less.

You deserve a poem
for your unsatisfactory mark
upon the teachers you denigrate,
the teachers you should emulate.

Perhaps I will learn Morse Code,
buy the appropriate paraphernalia,
and send my message over the airwaves.
Would you listen to me then?

Nineteen Minutes

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i read her
sometimes misconstrued
words
that slap
our media-mocked society
with this
thick piece
of modern literature.

and i wonder
as i look at their faces
shuffling in and out
peaked smiles
defensive responses
invariable isolation

which one of you
i want to ask,
would take this horrid day
this horrid combination of days,
trap them in a bottleneck
until
the
whole
world
explodes?

Good

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

you want a set of different words
more complex than
the one i offer.
you may have a string
of compliments sitting pretty
on the poster they made for you,
but strangers’ mouths
could never put forth
what i see every day.

i wish i could wipe the words
you imagine i might say
right out of your mind.
our exchange is a hushed whisper
in this semi-dark classroom;
there is no space, no time
to envelop the elegance of thought
you put forth in everything
that you do for them,
that you ask them to do for you.

good may not be the response
you walked across the school to hear;
but just as i cannot define its significance
in the midst of the chaos i face
every time i leave your classroom,
i cannot define the perfect peace,
the depth of knowledge,
or the admiralty of your daily lessons
with any word, or words,
that would be adequate.

Exchange

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

you have laid out the puzzles,
fixed the hot chocolate
in small pink cups placed before them,
popped the popcorn in the pan,
taken their small hands to form meatballs,
and set the table with
expensive wine, fine china,
everything that is beautiful and perfect.

we exchange the pieces of our lives
that mothers, daughters, friends, exchange,
handing them over as casually
as the French rolls you bought from the store
(dry, non-absorbent, bland as dirt).
i share my opinions as openly
as i know how, my heart set out
for you, mother, to remedy.

no amount of wine imported
from the Rhone River in France
will drown out the renewed realization
that the things i care for most,
the building blocks of my soul,
are blinded by the vision you have
of who you think i should be.

i exchange my words for silence,
then small talk that will lead nowhere.
it is safer for me to be that image
of yourself (the very part of you
that i despise, refuse to emulate)
than to cast away my weekend
with your distorted mirror view.

Candidate

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

you were born for this.
where are the voters?
i’m waiting for your
slanderous commercial
against candidates
who can’t compete.

it will surely follow
your quick quips
and intelligent,
well-read responses.

your video clips
and “inspiring messages”
are lost upon us, however.

please keep in mind
that your three-minute experience
with Mandarin Chinese
does not compensate
your obvious inadequacies.

we see your vision.
it’s as bright as the sun
on the first day of summer,
reminding us why we shed
these hard-earned skins
and spend those glorious months
with our children.

that time is something you,
10-month-old and all,
couldn’t possibly fit
into your perfect PowerPoint.

don’t worry, Dr.
we’ll watch the video
of today’s presentation
on YouTube.

after a few beers,
your words will be like the Mandarin:
foreign, bubbles burgeoning
out of the sea,
waiting for the moment
when the commercial will end,
when the reality of your ignorance
will shine in the summer sun.

Gratitude

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

here they are,
a pink epiphany
of what we could have been
as you stand curiously
reading my poems.

how funny that you see
and don’t see me
in the same moment.

i mark their papers,
her papers,
in green felt pen.
she will thank me later
with her dry wit,
her handing over of lessons,
her listening to my ideas.

you give me the check
(less than last year)
and wobble your hips,
your smile plastered on lips.
i nod,
my own lips (for once) sealed.
because everything,
the papers,
the poems on the counter,
the music you and i both love
playing quietly on the computer,
you in your room,
i in theirs,
everything is in its place,
and there are no words
that can describe my gratitude
as you pass through the door.

Inheritance

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

it is true what i say:
i have no idea who you are
or why he married you
or why it is that
you put your hands on her
whose sting
carried over
into the shadows of my childhood.

i know i wouldn’t be here
spitting out these vicious words
if it weren’t for
your egg, his seed.
and i am thankful for that.

but your countenance?
your picture in my memory?
it is nothing more than
a vague recollection,
a fuzzy image,
rough around the edges,
someone who couldn’t remember my name
nor cared to ever learn it.

when you go,
tears will be shed,
but not mine, nor my mother’s.
we all know this is true.
you have lived your life,
given purpose to what we want:
to be better mothers,
to stretch our love
into those shadowy places
where your hands couldn’t reach.