ironic notice
as the words come flooding in
(yet i can’t stop them)

no. i had no plan.
no plan for any of this.
(nor a solution).
ironic notice
as the words come flooding in
(yet i can’t stop them)
no. i had no plan.
no plan for any of this.
(nor a solution).
ice-cold Tuesday night
(ice skating on a weeknight?)
icing on the cake
we must stay outside
we must wear masks, be cautious
we must learn to live
all out of the house?
all the teens out together?
all the miracles
the boy taught himself
the boy had never skated
my boy taught himself
Almost a year ago, we invited this boy home for Christmas because he was living in a youth shelter.
We brought him downtown to see this beautiful tree.
And what a year it has been. Challenging in more ways than we ever thought imaginable, and all of us adjusting to this new life of having a brother and a son in the midst of a pandemic.
Here we are, standing under these same lights. And aren’t they still beautiful?
hidden behind mask
is my sixteen-year-old girl
(her pandemic grin)
i hope to win her
with walks, drives, conversations
just like the old days
sometimes the sunrise
is the best part of the day
(before darkness falls)
every election:
because they are so diverse
urbanites vote blue
all it really takes
is a short conversation
with someone different
a small taste of truth
in every word of their songs
(i can watch from here)
tried to woo them here
but only a few have come
so this is my life
hours of phone calls
texts pleading in languages
i don’t even speak
setting up my room
with a yardstick and some hope
ready for today
social media
comments on our lack of space
(century-old school)
2020 wins.
after this, i just give up.
no one came to school.
to walk empty halls
without the student voices
cold. slow. loveless. death.
on this dreary day
plagued by plagues, wildfires
votes matter so much