High Water

the most perfect park
the most perfect afternoon
marred by words, actions

my innocent girl
who only wanted this day
not a broken mom

but it's just a blur
one day bleeds into the next
watered with defeat

A Tree Grows in Denver

family tradition:
plant trees for graduates
and watch how they grow

my mother's tree stands
at my great-aunt's former home
taller than us all

my sister's tree shades
disappearing middle-class 
(our childhood home)

and my tree shocks me
evading the ash borer
with grandiose grace

thank you for the “no.”
as phallic as this lupine
(allium ignored)

i will learn from this
(things i tell myself at night)
and grow a sagebrush

it will bloom purple
(you can’t see my true color)
and you can’t taste it

yet, here it blossoms
as beautiful as the home 
you constantly loathe

i know. i know. i…
you don’t see what i see. stop.
but god. how it hurts.

these rare teen moments
everyone together; joy
minus jobs, school, stress

summer days beckon
drinks on rooftop patios
(mocktails for the kids)

the cold creek calls us
with shade, icy refreshment
from the sun’s harsh heat

and these cousins bond
under summer vacation 
(our home is their heart)

i’ve tried hard for grins
as hard as they are to earn
(teen reality)

her party stayed dry
despite stress, rain, tent set-up
(smiles al around)

entrepreneur 
winning with her lemonade 
even as a teen

three-thirty a.m.
my oldest’s footsteps. good steps.
intentional steps.

this is not a moon.
this is a lunar eclipse.
(Super-Flower-Blood)

and she’ll be gone soon.
(no early-morning steps).
and i. am. eclipsed.

shadows of loss win
the afternoon shines bright.
(we still have our moon)

graduation day
bleeds into normal doldrums
(life's quick, painful truths)