i want this captured
to remember this evening
(dark, icy outside)
not the budget talk,
the back talk, the endless talk
sucking life from days
this. this song, this spin,
this moment of childhood.
ice the sweet playground
no darkness. no cold.
warmth found in sisters’ giggles
that silence all talk.
stress
January Flurries
scheduling request
based on lawsuits they have lost
adds work to my plate
there’s no equity
for teachers, kids, or parents
trying to get by
so i’ll wake early
make gradebooks for fake classes
and do twice the work
i just want to know:
who has time to litigate
with kids in their life?
questions unanswered
to close a winter Monday
just sprinkled with sun
Stolen
thievery on kids
with granted Christmas wishes:
a new kind of low
scooter happiness
snatched from public library
while books stole our hearts
between this and puke
and sis stuck in Kentucky
(in snow of all things)
this week weighs heavy
for this mom, sister, teacher
(no end to winter)
but the sun was high
and we’re rich with two jobs now
(solved our scooter blues)
and we have love here
stolen from youth to old age
given to these girls
Los Ganadores
fourteen class hours
in three days. cold winter walk
to house of illness.
no breaks this weekend
as oldest tells project woes
(procrastination)
middle craves pancakes
but class again tomorrow
allows no bake time
(he’ll be up all night
holding a pail for baby
to give me this chance)
as it’s always been–
i work, work, work… he supports
(and we’re all winners)
Retakes
three times last week lost
but i gave it one last try
and he finally came
this after new kids
weren’t told their schedules had changed
disrupting my class
this after failed quiz
that took half the class to start
on crap computers
after failed logins
on no less than five machines
forced copies, time lost
after failed group work
(new eval requirement
that i’ll never pass)
and pointless meeting
number one hundred fifteen
(equal to school days).
but… he came to lunch.
he redid, and passed, his quiz.
so this day is won.
Always a Top Ten
reasons why i stopped:
one–brutal voice in writing,
uncensored anger
two–not much laughter,
too much crying to count
(my tear stained regrets)
three–exhausted sleep
from too many restless nights
swimming in nightmares
four–so much good lost
on the desire to numb,
to not fully live
five–waste of money
in times when we had little,
in times when we’re rich
six–lust and lack of
mediocre love-making
blurred by consumption
seven–fat belly
of someone too far along
to give up this quick
eight–every bad choice
i have made as an adult
came from that bottle
nine–joy i once felt
disappeared on icy rocks
of my lost chances
ten–my daughters’ eyes
watching every move i make
(and i’m making… them)
Flakes Fell
last night light flakes fell
to make a snow-bright morning
(soul slightly renewed)
i drove in silence
not able to think of words
that she’d understand
the unspoken sat
between us like the car crash
we saw just later
she spoke and screamed out
(firemen swarmed the panic
of woman on phone)
(i still had no words
nothing about the late night,
her sneaking downstairs)
(nothing on found phone
retrieved in secret to watch
the blossoms of lust)
just sadness, light flakes
falling from the winter sky
crashing our morning
so we said goodbye
(i gave her my hat and gloves.
she gave me a grin.)
(till midday flakes fell
then the sun burned all to mush
thoughts still unspoken)
Thoughts During Spanish Class
another long night
(i’d never lecture this long)
yet my kids judge me
i teach how i learn:
modeling, demonstration,
then application
i plan; over plan
think things through with them in mind
everything for them
yet it doesn’t work
i’ve somehow lost touch with them
and–worse–with myself
i miss the old me
so confident, outspoken
not worried for loss
now i question all:
which kid hates me most, and why?
will i keep my job?
but the worst is dark:
why can’t i be nicer… loved?
why can’t i smile?
i’ll go on, of course–
house bought, girls in school, trap set–
but at what cost? loss?
A Tinge of Color
the long walk to school
(meant to calm dreaded return)
backsplashed by moonlight
it lit my trapped way
to judgment i can’t escape
via teenage angst
then came home to lies.
sometimes life is like a cell:
the beginning, the end
yet, there is escape
small moments of truth and love
backsplashed by sunrise
The Runs
second thoughts run deep
two hundred dollars later
and him always mad
my bestie takes blame
(her kitten was first, she claims)
but this is my fault
how deep does love run?
for my oldest: no-phone prize
for us all: pet love
sometimes i wonder
how hovering hurt runs deep
to pick our pockets
if i could keep her
(and keep his heart with me too)
we’d run through the depths
Step Write Up 