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)
my mother’s birthday
surrounded by flowers, kids,
laughter in all forms
her party stayed dry
despite stress, rain, tent set-up
(smiles al around)
what you don’t see here:
picking rhubarb in the rain
for salvation pie
a rare, masked smile
his first roller coaster ride
our life’s hills, splashes
entrepreneur
winning with her lemonade
even as a teen
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