in the midst of darkness
after weeks of moment-by-moment loss today we have a win a Green Card on the horizon of this young man’s dreams
mushroom chicharrón tacos, and this sad puppy
it's only Wednesday
of my first week back at school and exhaustion wins
Toy Story 3. Now.
i could carry the bag out and cry all morning
a toy, a trigger?
my girl is off to college. (this is no cartoon).
and so he will stay.
though i know she will leave me. each grinning their truth.
like this worn-out dog
i have nearly given up… yet, i’m a Taurus.
and so i garden
though it, too, is a failure stolen by flowers
this year’s loss, in pics:
weeds and grass and tearing out for one little heart
before the long drive,
enjoy the perfect park. shop. soak up cousin time.
eat your sister’s meal
till the next time you see her. too long (just too long).
your daughters will drive.
together, we can make it. we will rule the night.
it’s all we can rule
with the oldest off to school we can rule the night.
they all want to know
(yet no one really wants to) how much it hurts. Hurts.
it’s in a painting
the storm-washed sea, blue background the broken cable
it’s in this beach day
(today’s my uncle’s birthday) and we can’t go back
here we are, singing
because it’s all we can do after the long drive
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
i used to write poetry
broken lines, imperfect syllables, heart so hard so imperfect so fucking bright like the blue sky trying to break through and taunt a hailstorm but instead instead instead it's just ice not the rain we needed to cool us in a heatwave just ice tearing through my well-tended garden stealing the blue sky steeling the blue eye and ruining me
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.
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)