Young Blood

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

caked in dirt as thick as frosting,
dripping in young-blooded sweat,
hand-carved spears cutting the air,
savage screams of hungry hunters,
sparkling laughter thrown into the wind,
they emerge from the forested fort.

not once in forty-eight hours
have iPodiPadMacBookCellPhone
inundated their young blood
(nor our old blood)
and without a single complaint,
we gather them together so

caked in sticky white clouds of s’mores,
campfire-smoke-ridden clothing and skin,
hot metal spears cutting into the ash,
thrilled screams of sugar highs,
sparkling laughter thrown into the stars,
they emerge from the perfect weekend.

Helicopter

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she hovers
a helicopter of
impatience
desire
control

while all we can do
(awkward and new)
is stand beneath her blades
our hair stinging
our faces from her wind

closer she hovers
swooping in on a military mission,
a sniper poised,
aimed,
ready.

but i am not ready.
when i feel her
bullet slide through me
and into the soul of my daughter,
i am unable to
push my hair back,
walk away from the wind,
or drown out the sound of
beating blades from my heart.

One Stretch of Road

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one stretch of road
that all my life
living here
i’ve never seen

how it curves and dips
reveals a view
of peaks and forests
of bicyclists making
their way to their next destination
(here is where the heart is)
of log cabins
and tiny towns
hidden trails
and geocaches
campgrounds tucked in
amongst aspens
and dirt roads

and i am reminded
(do i need a reminder?)
of why i am here,
why we are here
here
here
on this curvy
dipping winding road
that takes us home.

Sorrow, Love

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it’s the witching hour
and here, all across town,
evils have worked their way into
the darkness engulfing us.

as quiet as a kitten snuffling
against the door, she whispers
that she is sick,
that she needs help.

with ginger hands we strip
off her sodden clothes,
and i run a washcloth under
water so hot it might sting her.

up and down her small body
i wipe away the illness, then
slip the clean nightgown over
her head in one anxious movement.

the new (old) bed in the green room awaits.
she crawls in and i whisper,
Do you want me to lie here with you?
she whimpers and nods, words lost.

i ask her to move over a bit,
but before i have slid in beside her,
she has inched her body wholly
against mine, her fingers on my face.

When you were a baby, I say,
the tears already sliding down my cheeks,
we used to share this bed every night,
just you and me, girl.

he comes in, offers to replace me,
but he can see the tracks down my cheeks,
her tiny fingers on my chin,
and without another word,
leaves us in our bed of sorrow, love.

Repercussions

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it is only five seconds
with repercussions that will
last a lifetime

my childhood haunts me
as the same stress, anger
leaps into my veins

how i want to push it back
to not have this moment
of loss, of bitter haste

soon they are all crying
the moment turns into
long o-o-o-o-o-o-o’s

all i can do is reach out
my arms, wrap them inside,
and wish time backwards.

Oddities

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an odd couple
him outspoken
earrings and hair
thick with want of a brush
she perfectly manicured
tight as a spindle
of silken thread

their words bounce off
one another, harsh, playful
forced, relaxed
his mouth open and loud,
her lips pinched and defiant

with them we will take a new step,
form a new friendship,
walk our children hand in hand with theirs,
hoping the oddities
that make us (them)
who we are meant to be
will be the same oddities
that will bring, keep us together.

Enough

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i glide in and out of rooms all day
up and down, around they sway
as many lessons as elementary
undefinable in secondary

my students laugh when they see the same
lesson with a new text, new name
same teacher, different class
how my day zips by so fast

two, three, even four times
the same faces make these rhymes
teachers vary, steps add up
soon I am without enough

i can’t keep the pace that I have set
a new brain is what i need to get
never enough time, patience, love
for all that they need to think of.

Thinking

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i may not see it through their eyes
or feel it through their legs
but the mountain lures me
and i can already sense the wind at my back
hear the spinning rubber on pavement
the thin air tightening in my lungs
and the sweet smell of pine calling me home.

it may seem crazy (and it always is with me)
but i will chase that train
climb that mountain
win that race
if only for my legs
my eyes
my heart.

with a pedal of determination
i will be just like the little blue engine
of my youth,
thinking my way to the top
thinking
thinking
thinking
all. the. way. down
to where everything tastes
better on the other side of the mountain.

Waiting

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with her giant oval ears,
she turns her head from side to side
waiting

we quiet them as much
as a passel of schoolgirls can be
waiting

in a moment she stands
glassy eyes searching the grasses
waiting

out from his hollow, her fawn
bolts to nurse, jerking at her underside,
waiting

she nudges him away with a quick kick
and he crosses our trail, leaving her
waiting

we stand in a semi-quiet line,
mesmerized, in love, memories in hand,
waiting.

Constellation

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just when we have stars to search for
the clouds cover the sky
a gray-yellow windswept blanket
of cool air that blows
the fire’s ashes into our faces.

it breathes whining into their voices
but isn’t strong enough
to carry me away
on a blanket of puffy nighttime clouds
back to my home
my backbone
my place to be me.

in a mostly futile attempt
they hold their glittery black star papers
under the eerie blue light of
crank-up flashlights,
then shine them anxiously
into the night sky.

a few stars tease us
but not enough to create a constellation
and their rays of light
search the holes in the blanket
for the hope, the possibility
of seeing what we all know is not there.