a busted-lip morn
as i mourn this stage of life:
dry. unforgiving.
Black Tuesday
a busted-lip morn
as i mourn this stage of life:
dry. unforgiving.
loss
Recipe for Loss
motherhood snippets:
a brilliant purple houseplant
captured in glory
molé for the win?
another failed recipe
to exhaust my soul
oh, but the chocolate
hidden behind the bright beads
of sesame seeds
her anxiety
so present, prescient, painful
and i cannot win
Quaranturkey
work interrupted
my man carving the turkey
so my boy stepped in
my girls made the pies
and set the grateful table
(we made this loss work)
just the six of us
celebrating our health
in a health-hell year
A Gift from 2020
a personal gift
from her aunt, for Sweet Sixteen
ripped open, stolen
how dark can it get?
two Honduran hurricanes,
pandemic, no school?
and now birthday gifts
being stolen from our porch
while we sit like sheep?
Pink Limbs
sometimes the sunrise
is the best part of the day
(before darkness falls)
The Blues. For Blue.
every election:
because they are so diverse
urbanites vote blue
all it really takes
is a short conversation
with someone different
Smile and Nod
tried to woo them here
but only a few have come
so this is my life
End of…
fog dawn this morning
it won’t even really rain
just tears. and fires.
What Is Left?
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.
Heartbreak #109 for Year 2020
arriving today:
my kids who text me daily
my kids, yes, my kids
did she read my words?
did she see what i just wrote?
alas, i’m tired
i want to see them
just as he does, biking there
in the midst of lunch
seeing their faces,
having a conversation
without this damn screen
Step Write Up 