stomach tumbling
with sick realization:
innocence now lost
just three days ago
she was climbing up the limbs
of youth’s bulging tree
her arms strong and thin
(but what was bulging inside,
ready to burst free?)
to know that she knows
kills me from the inside out
(as a mom, a slave)
failures drop like leaves
of youth’s impending autumn
to crunch with my woes
i’ve always loved leaves
(but there’s no satisfaction
in this kind of crunch.)
she searches hollows
to fill a hollow within
(i’ve searched too. in vain.)
to know that she knows
brings every dark doubt to light
(no tree-limbed safe-net)
what will she climb next?
(the strong arms of a stranger
who will leave no leaves…)
a mom’s greatest fear:
to lose children to branches
that i cannot reach
strength
Denver ReCycled
through cycling
in and out of neighborhoods
brick by brick, i fell
love lost, and then won
bungalow to bungalow
my city wooed me
the wheels spun me back
(sold my heart to Cheesman Park)
from bad-boy breakups
all along back streets
Park Hill, Cole, Cory Merrill
like love at first spin
bikes are trendy now
(they’ll dress like freaks to prove it)
but my bike love lives
in this uphill ride
with mountain sunset backdrop
my girls guiding me
i see them falling–
street by street, scraped knees and all–
in love with my love
Day Dealings
Cross Country
weekend leftovers
murmur an early Monday
in my groaning gut
technology blues
plague two classes, one meeting
forced into nonsense
data collection
begins my singular plan
till phone rings: sick kid
frazzled packing up
for a stomach flu faker
then two extra kids
but that is not all!
cross country registration
at the last moment
my middle girl runs!
two days a week, a new plan:
laps around the park
(he can cook dinner–
we’ll eat late like back in Spain,
shed this U.S. stress)
and i will run too–
take tree-lined tech-free views home
(run free, not ragged)
Two Too Many
Dusks and Dawns
Daykeep
eyes burning, itching
allergies taking over
lost words from far back
yet, i’m so happy
house tucked into dream pocket
i could let this go
this and my students
who deserve America
(this dream we all have)
and i’ll fight for them
and she’ll praise him, she’ll praise him
(but he wouldn’t fight)
and we all know it–
how deep my love grows. hard ass?
abso-fuck-lutely
hard ass, heart of gold.
that you can’t forget. you can’t.
and why now, why now?
cause it’s easy now?
cause you have a house, a home?
cause we’re good enough?
cause we were good then,
as golden as these lost days.
i’ll keep my days. thanks.
Anywhere but Here
with windows wide: write.
because you’ve missed my poems, love.
since yesterday’s dawn
girls in sun’s shadow
as she announces her move.
life: cycle in, out.

you know you’ve missed me
my “seven-likes” followers
’cause i didn’t write
you count me daily
amongst the regular loves
that make us a life
and i was just born.
(it was like i was just born
the day i met him)

’cause seventeen years
can’t be measured in mountains
or wildflowers

or whining children.
but in the steps we oft take
on our way back home
and in sunsets. Sun!
lighting my way across love
across city, life.

cutting down this ‘hood
into what it’s meant to be:
scraped, demolished, lost.
circular i am
because that’s how tires spin:
neverending globe

that brings us back home
wherever that home may be.
anywhere but here.
Sunny Skies Ahead
he comes home with clouds
hovering over new joy
(where we could be free)
but then i must ask:
is freedom found in money?
so hard to answer
those without know best:
lack of money’s a prison
choking month to month
those with all know best:
too much money is a trap
biting claws of greed
it was just enough
for shoes, road trips, water parks
just enough to breathe
i want that freedom–
monthly-cycle jail-cell break
so far from the clouds
Miracle Man
in thirty-eight years
he’s made me miracles
(since before we met)
miracle one: birth–
an afterthought, late-marriage,
named-after-dad fourth
miracle two: shy–
wouldn’t say more than needed
from grade school on up
miracle three: serve–
mother, father, siblings, friends,
country, lovers… wife
miracle four: kids
who can capture his essence
in smiles, sweetness
miracle five: love–
couldn’t come to broken hearts
till we met. and healed.
miracle six: hope–
’cause without him there’d be none.
happy birthday, Babes.



























