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)
there's no heartbreak here
just my girl, eighteen years old, ready to face them
(pandemic proms are outdoors, under tents, in grass)
she's taller, braver.
in her silver floor-length gown, she masters the night
and aren't we a crowd?
this master-mix of humans, standing on these rocks?
right below the Molly Brown (ready to swim. Win.)
this side of the glass
has me trapped like a sad pup just begging entry
the blooms of today
will disappear tomorrow and it hurts. it hurts.
snow showers plague spring
with their heartless reminder of cold’s endless reach
perfect skyline view
from this lonely bleacher seat (as cold as your words)