our youngest driver
plowing through rain, construction toward the great Erie
our road trips have changed
as the girls become adults yet, they’re still the same
local food, great views,
the ever-changing weather, seeing every state
summer camp is done.
art, yoga, cycling, love. and home stretch? cooking.
these so-rare smiles
pouring milk for tortillas like happy siblings
did you say siblings?
how about our matching twins with perfect spring rolls?
don’t forget sushi
made with Chinese expertise to brighten their eyes
and fufu for all
stirred by girls from two cultures finding friends at home
these mandazi men
so proud of their puffed product all the way from home
on the next generation sharing her home’s heart
this sweet quesillo
comes from home with a sweet tale (we’ve hit a home run)
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
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.
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)
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.)