POEM: a bigger house

veiled in that obvious way you often choose
when you are trying to hurt me
without claiming ownership
you were careless with my feelings
informing me that if we got a bigger house
you would need my help to keep it clean
like a patient father to his irresponsible child
you implied I don't pull my weight
clearly you are overburdened
doing more than your fair share
at your limit in this, our small house

later, with not a little bitterness
I foolishly pointed out that blue bucket
you left by the garage for months now
one among many items carelessly forgotten
left strewn out doors, for all to see
embarrassing to me, but not to you
snapping back, quickly, sharply,
the veil lifted now, the intent clear
a blow tossed at me with deliberate aim
wasn't it I, not you, that wanted a bigger house
yet thanks to me you have no time as it is now
to take care of all that needs doing in this
our smaller, seemingly less demanding home

Late now, I wonder if you will ever know
the things I do that go unseen, tho maybe few
they would be missed if I should stop
but then again, my messes are private
they don’t announce themselves loudly to others
or reveal the inner turmoil, the secret, ugly side
not like yours, out there glaring for all to see
yet you always manage to ignore your own
never looking underneath, where the dirt is ground in

today, of all days, you said mean things to me
you made me cry, catch my breath hard
forcing me to hide my tears from your cold heart
when I needed to see it beating kindly
tomorrow I let them pump poison in my veins
as you sit and hold my hand
chemicals meant to kill mutant cells
but which toxic venom is more destructive
or hurts me more? Which mess is easier
to sweep under the rug
and forget about?

POEM: Free Pass

You don’t get to judge me
you don’t get to blame me
you don’t get to direct me
or tell me how to be, how to feel
this isn’t about you
your feelings are your own providence

See, I have a "get out of jail free" card

a monopoly of deserving

it's only fair
I can show it to you
I’ll lift my shirt and you will see it
a violent gash, a deep, gnarled scar
it means you have to do what I need
or just stay away from me
and let me do whatever I must
in order to survive this

Because if I don’t survive this
you will have nothing left to judge
or to accuse me of, or complain about
anyway

POEM: what to keep, what to discard

Sorting thru boxes in the basement
I find random, scattered remnants
things I thought were important
crammed into unmarked containers

the notebook I used to keep track
of the times I nursed my first baby
sleep deprived scribblings
evidence of a mother’s nervous dedication

keep

the childhood rock collection
in a scratched plastic box
purchased with my own money
from a vacation gift shop

keep

the cards I bought but never sent
misplaced when they were needed
people absent from my life now
no longer worth saving

discard

these bits and pieces are like lines on a map
the road leads to a place of order
but I am lost amongst the stories
and don’t want to find my way just yet

POEM: Lifeline

unwisely I yearn to grasp
to grab, to hold on
to what is only possible
instead of the probable
or the likely
I want stronger lines
tethering my spirit

because to see Hope’s dark side
is to glimpse that offering
held just out of reach
but dangled enticingly
a frayed promise
made to be broken

POEM: room with a view

People listen when you have cancer
they stop, hanging on every word I say
funny
suddenly my thoughts have more weight
as if I’ve opened a door to wisdom
closed to every one else

Maybe there is such a door
open to me now
new vistas on the other side
perspective shifted
clarity comes in waves
unbidden

But I’m not sure about the wisdom part
perhaps that is not it
perhaps the only thing I have learned
from glimpsing behind that door
that heavy, terrible door
is that I know less than I ever dreamed
my view, unimpeded by triviality
unlocked
goes on for miles

POEM: residue

cancer has left a trail
of dust and debris
that has no where to go
it can’t be swept up
trying to
only scatters the particles
more and more
creating a hazy cloud
swirling in the sunbeam
where it might have been missed
dancing defiantly in the light
until a shadow comes
and all evidence disappears
from view

sometimes
others unknowingly pass thru
without realizing
everything in sight
is covered in a thin dusty layer
the residue my reminder
of futility

POEM: Janis knew

I remember singing Bobby McGee
eyes closed tight
lost completely in the moment
pouring all my angst
into each simple line
as I rocked back and forth
strumming the guitar intently

I lacked a little of the rasp
that signature voice
the edge that comes with age
or from knowing the deep ache
of hard blues, intimately
yet still fresh
entrenched in youth
when I first learned the song
I could hardly have known
what was to come
what there was to be lost

“Freedom’s just another word
for nothin’ left to lose”

I will never be free like that again
and I miss it immeasurably
the loss pulls tight at me sometimes
on a late summer night like this
mournful of all that has come to pass

meaning awakens realization now
I know that freedom can be traded
or lost like a poor soul
every wisdom comes with a price
mine is to know that I have everything
and that it is all so beautifully fleeting

I think Janis knew too

POEM: the tie that binds

Slipping away
like silken strands
loose
too smooth to catch firmly
clutching frantically
my grasp is weak
memories run through my grip
faster than I can hold them
the recollection of what it was like
before
of what my life used to be
when I was whole
that precious, simple existence
disappears
as the tether that binds it to me
is yanked away too quickly
the tie severed, cut
and any knot retied
will be a constant reminder
even if I close my eyes
I’ll still feel it

POEM: beyond every why

you melt me
one glimmer of smile
and I am gone
your joy
is mine
and I am smitten
beyond comprehension
such a powerful thing
the love of a mother
for her children
it is the truth
in all beauty
and the reason
beyond every why

POEM: full circle

when you first grew
in my body
I wondered how I could love
another child as much
as I loved my first

so deep has been my love for Megan
I couldn’t imagine another being
coming into that circle
but you, our sweet Daniel

you not only joined our circle
you somehow made it more complete
a loving embrace
to hold us all tight

seamless

as if you had been there all along

I believe in some way you were

always a part of us

even before you arrived

POEM: Meggie's Eyes

after you were born
from the moment you opened your eyes
for the first time
dark baby blue, endless
I got lost in their depth
falling deeper in love than I ever imagined
I wondered what they would look like
as you grew

Slowly they turned brighter blue
sparkling
sharp, searching, focusing
finding my face easily
our eyes locked into long soulful looks

as I nursed you for hours
your stare was intense
even strangers often remarked
about the powerful beauty
of your strong gaze

As the first years began to pass
I wondered if your eyes might turn green
like mine
for many years of my childhood
my mother said I had blue eyes
but when I looked at my face
really looked at my own face
they were not blue
but green
even photographs showed the change
she hadn’t noticed

No one in my family has my eyes
they are unique
my favorite thing
about myself
I’ve never seen the color on anyone else
until the day you looked up at me
barely four
smiling
and there they were staring back at me
pale green
enticing
like the sea on a gentle shore
and I knew
I saw them
I saw you
finally my eyes were no longer
alone
and on you they are more beautiful
than I could have ever dreamed

POEM: if this wasn't me

This isn’t me
I’m the escape artist
quitting before the going gets tough
hiding from fear, from pain
I’m the one that always gets away
dented, perhaps
a little the worse for wear
but not annihilated
not damaged irreparably
coming out the other side
I have often been better than before
eventually
until now

Yes, my childhood left its wounds
my escape was a bit too close
for comfort
no visible scars, tho
well
at least not until I made them so
with layers of fat
burying the deepest pain
hiding it
for all the world to see

But layers such as those can be shed
like a snake
or perhaps not
perhaps more like a moth
emerging from a cocoon
in the cover of dark
completely changed
from one thing into another
I facilitated my own metamorphosis
at the midnight hour

forced to

just in time

Now I am pinned down
caught
like a specimen
the one who everyone will see
as an example
a walking cautionary tale
reminding people to be afraid
for a minute, maybe more
but after that they’ll go on with their day
their life
unscathed
shaking their heads in pity

at my paper thin wings

now disintegrated
happy not to be me
I understand how they feel
How could I begrudge them their relief?
I’d be happy, too
if this wasn't me

POEM: calendar girl

It felt like Tuesday all day
though it was only Monday
how many moments
have fallen behind, lost

where do they go?

I wish time flowed like water
fluid
instead of fits and stops
jolting

I wish there was at least one day
that matched the calendar
in my head

POEM: not my home

When I see myself now
as I take stock in the mirror
I can still remember what I looked like
the basic structure of my form
when I was a child
a young woman
a new mother
my body changed again and again
a slow evolution
the natural process
merely witnessed
I can barely remember how it felt
only how I looked

There was a long time once when I disregarded
my form
my shape
my self
hiding, I buried her in layer upon layer
of flesh
of fat
of pain
until I was unrecognizable
smothered
but eventually I rediscovered my native essence
and peeled away those thick, heavy layers
until my body was my own again
damaged but still familiar

Now in only an afternoon's time
with the sculpting of a surgeon’s scalpel
I will no longer be the same
a new form
a new shape
a new self
will emerge from the reconstruction
and I don’t know how that will be
will I ever feel comfortable
in my own skin again
or will it always feel rearranged
unfamiliar
like living in a house that is not my home

POEM: velocity

velocity makes all the difference
rapid change seems drastic
sending the senses reeling
leaving the bitter tang
of metallic taste in my mouth
but the slow pace of crawling time
is a comfort, yielding gentle transitions
that are no less inevitable
yet without trepidation
acceptance can grow gradually
have a chance to mellow, deepen
into a full, luscious vintage
sweet upon the tongue
a vague memory, the flavor
of any former essence
barely remains
so as not to distinguish sharply
the new vine from the old

POEM: I am lost

To conserve and irradiate
or to obliterate and rebuild
these are not fit choices
for any mortal woman

As a mother I choose simply
as a woman it is more complicated
and fear of regret
sits heavy in my heart
a driving force that has me
spinning my wheels in place

While I try and weigh the options
numbers and statistics are no measure
of the potential for human life
yet like signs in a language I can’t read
they point in the direction I need to go
a most reluctant tourist
with an unreadable map, I am lost

POEM: uncaged

Is it all too much
indulgent of me to wallow
captivated entirely
with my own selfish need
to endlessly express
the minutia of my every
thought
about this interminable disease
and how it has impacted
invaded
my entire existence

A shadow over every thing
all else pales
in the dark light
of this self absorbed prison

Release seems almost
more frightening
than incarceration
for to escape means
letting go
and letting go means
a failure to appreciate
the cage

POEM: Wisdom has left the building

each available option is fraught
with the torment of Uncertainty
Doubt lurks around every corner
waiting to pounce on my Fear
and feed off of it, well-nourished
creature that she has become of late

I wish not so much for Knowledge
to make the definitive, right choice
but instead I long for pure Faith
that innocent child of Trust & Hope

only willing Belief could bring me Peace
as Wisdom has left the premises
and I don’t anticipate her return
any time soon…she took Sanity with her
and you know what that means!

they are hiding from this impossible choice
and so I make it alone now, resting uneasy
until Hindsight makes her way here
and offers me Comfort rather than Regret
while Compassion holds my hand, ever so gently

POEM: in my own skin

Not sure
I can
write myself
thru this
ordeal
perhaps
this one
may finally
be too much
too hard
for even
the most
poignant
heartbreaking
gut wrenching
words
to express
to empty
to help me
find comfort
or solace
or peace
in my own
skin
again

POEM: goodbye

undulating skin
round areola
pale pink
softness
surrounding the
generous nipple
pleasure
milk
I will miss you
he will miss you
we will miss you
I am sorry
forgive me
I will try
to forgive you
goodbye

POEM: unaffected

I am weary and tired
of this unending quest
no answers are clear
no solution seems to fit
the losses are adding up
I know I should be glad
my very life is the prize
the precious gold ring
that is dangled enticingly
almost assured of winning it
yet I want so much more
I want to be unscarred
unscathed in mind and body
and that is not possible

I want to suckle my son
dreamily in the morning
as we both wake to the dawn
a new day ahead of us
shining and fresh, unspoiled

my daughter sits beside me
curled under my arm
her head against my breast
the one that they will take away
my son lays beside me
drinking from the other breast
the one they say is “unaffected”
but it is affected, we are all affected
unable to share my milk
poisoned, polluted
damaged beyond repair
how can that not be an affect?

POEM: the same thread (for my brother)

I climb out of bed
the same way every morning
disentangling myself
carefully, gently
from between my two children
each has their side of me

I look back at the bed
as I do every day
and feel the warmth overtake
my heart, glowing
their sweet faces soft with sleep

When I check on them
from time to time
until they wake
I see that they have gravitated
towards one another
becoming a tender tangle of just two
an intricate weave

Throughout the day I am often
touched, elated, proud
by the way they love each other
they are inseparable
Meggie, my little mother
wanting to make him smile
playful and creative
Daniel, joyful, exuberant, demanding
adoring her, emulating her
there are squabbles but never fights
they forgive each other easily
each wants for the other to be happy
a gift for a mother’s heart

I think of my own little brother
our wicked fights, animosity
not our fault
competing for the meager scraps
the weak strands of our parents love
scattered fragments of normalcy
there were moments of sharing
of a sibling bond
but they were few, thin

stretched beyond capacity

Grown now, no longer so little
towering over me, a man with his own children
he called when he found out I had cancer
His voice broke, “Sis, I know…I love you”
and we cried for a moment, wordless

I was reminded of when he called me to say
our father had died, unexpectedly
a man I hadn’t spoken to in years
who never knew my children
but for whom my brother still reached out for
despite everything

I said with tears in my eyes,
“David, I am so sorry for your loss.”
because for him it was a fresh wound
mine had healed long ago
mended with tightly woven mesh

It seems human bonds are always tangled
some create a strong tapestry
beautiful fabric tightly woven
and others are threadbare, worn
with gaping holes beyond patching
but both are still tied together
by the same thread
never to be unraveled

POEM: losing my grip

everything falls flat
the sounds I hear
are missing a certain tone
the scenery lacks depth
vivid shades of color
are lost
my voice faint
barely discernable
amidst the din
of this loud disease
I am fading away
bit by bit
before I have even begun
to fight
how will I ever find
the strength to go on
without myself
to hold on to?

POEM: too late to revel in the glory

look at your breasts

see them anew
for me

if they are whole
are healthy
are both still intact
please know what I did not
that they are a treasure
know how lucky you are

enjoy them
cherish them
love them
no matter what you used to think

round and firm,
the blessing of youth
a gentle sloping curve,
the gift of maturity
small and unassuming
or large and cumbersome
generous
pendulous
drooping
pointy
compact
unyielding

they are all so amazing
so beautiful
so unique
so utterly precious

and sadly, fragile, too

my wish for any woman
is to know her breasts as a blessing
a simple gift
and to do what she can
to keep them safe

my wish for myself
is to forget all that now
and let go
too late to revel in the glory

POEM: too soon

I miss your suckling lips
that sweet face, staring into mine
the ease with which we came together
and even when we parted
and moved on about our day
I knew there was a next time
and another
so many more days and nights were to follow
until you chose some day to let go
of mother’s milk
on your own terms

a bond stronger than iron
gentle as rain

but now it is gone
that bond broken by my own hand
those days are to be no more
soon they will dry up
arid, empty, floating in memory
like a dead leaf upon the wind
a loss so deep I feel it in my skin
as much as in my heart

My breasts ache for you
and my only consolation
is that while you have not yet forgotten
you seem satisfied now
with my arms
my long hair
my singing voice
my immense love alone
will be enough for you

Oh my dearest child
it is by losing my breast
that you will have all of me still
and by forgetting mother’s milk
you will have your mother’s life
a cruel twist of fate
but with at least some mercy
for both of us, I hope

POEM: The Flow

Today I want to write
some days that is all I really want to do
admittedly, almost shamefully
not to mother
nor to be a wife
not even a friend
but just to sit with pen and paper
or keyboard and screen
and write
pour words out like drops of blood
empty my veins
release the flow
cleansed by getting out the thoughts
before they disappear and become lost
unfamiliar, mutated
like a tangled clot

Yet the very distractions
that keep me from the page
are what give my voice
something to say

Strange beast, this writing thing
without the pull away from it
I would never be able to come back
the longing would be filled
with other things, perhaps
the pull would be away
from other places
that flow would be redirected
and I would bleed no more
but I think
the wound would somehow still be missed
like a phantom limb
haunting my memory
but without remembering

POEM: cracked shell

Don’t disturb my shell, please
the thin, delicate wall
I’ve built around my fear

encloses it and keeps it from escaping

If you break through

it will shatter and I will smash
into tiny chards, like glass
not to be touched
lest they cut the flesh
of the very one who offers comfort

I'll have to sweep them up

like grains of jagged sand

sharply slipping through fingers

and mingling with my blood and tears.

Don't disturb my shell, please

it's all that is holding me together now

POEM: please baby, don't wake

please baby, sleep, don’t wake
because I cannot put you back to sleep
I don’t know how, anymore
without giving you what you want
and cannot have
I am so lost

oh my darling boy, you will never remember
how sweetly you suckled at my breasts
the tenderness with which I stroked your hair
soft, golden like my own
the loving way you gazed up at me
blue eyes turning green
like mine

when you were first born
our nursing was harder than with your sister
sometimes it doesn’t go easy
but because I had the gift of her
I knew
and I kept going
and you learned, quickly
we worked it out

as you grew you came to my breast
less often
this is as it should be
a busy toddler has things to do
to become
I imagine it is easy at that age
to lose the connection
just a little
but my breasts kept us tied
for those precious times
when you wanted comfort
or to sleep
or just to remember that you were loved

I had assumed that like your sister
our nursing would continue
until you were much, much older
you, like her at this age, showed no signs
of giving it up any time soon
but then this cancer happened
and Mama’s ta-ta’s are not okay
they are broken
and I must take them away from you
or be taken away from you myself

it sounds so simple
but it is the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life
and I mourn for this more than for anything else
I might lose

last night you woke
lying next to me
crying
wanting my breast
I said no, hoping you would drift back to sleep
but you didn’t
yet I thought I had to remain firm
for what will happen during the days to come
when my breasts offer you poison
and not the sweet milk you crave?

you cried, Daniel, my darling
you begged, “Mama, pease!”
I cried, I rocked you, I cursed the universe
for making me do this wretched thing
to one I love more than life itself

and I do, my Daniel, love you
more than my own life
if I thought it would be best for you
or your sister
I would die
I would let the cancer take me
and give you my milk till the end
you must believe that

but I know what you cannot
that to lose me would be worse

I want you to forgive me
so much it is a physical ache
that will hurt more than anything
wrack me with more pain
than this cancer will ever inflict

but it is not for myself
that I want your forgiveness
although I would treasure it
more than you could know
it is for your own sake
that I want you to forgive Mama
please, my baby, my heartsong
you must not let this divide you
from your mother
for you still need me
that you and your sister still need me
is what I am living for

please baby, sleep, don’t wake
Mama loves you

POEM: turn the page

I can't stand this

I don't want to be the brave

inspirational

cancer woman

fighting for her life

a one-breasted warrior

battling on

for the sake of her children

I want my old life back

the simple little one

that I should have loved more

Did I dream too big?

Did my reaching for immortality

with words, by pen

invite Irony, that nasty

little mutant creature

to infiltrate, invade

and add this new storyline to my life?

I want to turn the page now please.

POEM: reconstruction

I wish I remembered
the last time I took a shower without knowing
I didn’t think to take notice

or treasure the simplicity

Now, each time

I look at my body, my breasts
I think that soon they, at least one, will change
forever
each time I look at myself
my face
my hair
my eyes
I know they are not the same
already changed
something has been removed
before the scalpel has even touched me

What will it look like after?
What reconstruction is there for innocence?

POEM: blood & milk

blood and milk,
each vital, nourishing
my breasts flow with both now
one feeds my last baby,
drawn out in tenderness
the other, wounded, healing
forcibly drained
pumped as a sign of faith
both elixirs
evidence of hope

POEM: evening unleashed

evening is letting go

there's little left to do

what's still undone will have to wait

the precious bit of time remaining

belongs not to the putting away of things

but to getting comfortable

settling down

unwinding thoughts

unraveling the tightly wound tether

that ties me to the day

loose now I drift

floating

the words come if I am patient

ideas flourish in front of me

on the page

they weave their way gently

until they are complete

unexpectedly

and the last knot releases

soaring

I am done

until tomorrow

POEM: voice

I’ve found my voice
I recognize it
as if it were always mine,
only lost for a while
Yet I know that all it speaks
is different now,
a quality that is new
emerging
from the center
this midpoint that lies
between all there is for me
and all there has been
My new voice recognizes me
and knows we belong together

POEM: my degree

I once felt unqualified
I had no authority
that I could display
no proof of my legitimate place
but sometimes, sometimes
I found myself knowing
what I know
an unadulterated truth
yet I hesitated to speak
now I offer it up
bravely, determinedly
despite my lack
of proper tag or label
who will listen
becomes less a question
I care to ask
knowing only that to exist
to be earnest
to be passionate and open
are my diplomas
better than any hanging on a wall
or shoved in a dusty box
that I think outside of anyway
because I still can

POEM: forsythia

I didn't force any forsythia to bloom

distracted,

spring beat me to it

now long arching branches

are studded with little yellow trumpets

small but noisy

blaring

they remind me that I forgot them

shouting

they herald change is inevitable

Time marches on

POEM: Pygmalion

As your Eliza Doolittle
I had to find the middle ground
when you were done with me
dropped
from the heights you flung me
you let me fall
because I couldn’t fly

but if you’d only held my hand
a little longer
I could have at least hovered
if not so high
then farther than I was able
to make it on my own

A stone once carved can’t go back
to being a rock
to continue life
it must be beheld
eyes upon it
once you turn your back
it is left deformed by the chisel
unable to pick up the pieces
chipped away
now dust

POEM: seasoned

When young
I wrote from a point
of influence
but now I write
half as a child
fresh, clean
my own voice alone
but yet still as a woman
older, wiser
experiences available
expressed without hesitation
or filter
my own voice now echoes
the song of a life
already half lived

POEM: the edge of knowing

There is a moment

right before awareness

an innocence poised

at the brink

at the edge

before tumbling over

into the chasm

of knowing

That fleeting second

before plummeting

becomes so precious

only after the fall

in retrospect

If only

that moment

could be so loved

without facing the depths

terrible

POEM: Fix it

I show him, guide him

let him feel the lump

half hoping in some crazy way

that he'll say,

"oh yeah, one of those,

that's no problem, seen it before

easily fixed,"

as if this were another of his areas

of husbandly expertise

just like he would say

if something were wrong

with our car

or my computer

or the bathroom sink

something simple, harmless

that I just didn't happen to know about

in my girlish ignorance

but instead he looks at me

crushed

trying to appear calm

he says, "I love you."

and I am alone again

with my fears

POEM: Changed

My daughter's favorite tree, near blooming

LUMP

coffee brewing, morning make-up

LUMP

hum of computer waking up

LUMP

last week breast in hand, found it

LUMP

nursing the baby, his waiting mouth

LUMP

today will reveal what it is not

LUMP

but no matter what becomes of this

LUMP

I am changed forever by this

LUMP

POEM: Distasteful

It is a distasteful word,

lump

it thuds in your mouth

like a stone

cumbersome, heavy

it stays stuck

and is hard to move beyond

POEM: waking words

poetry doesn't let me sleep

it tickles my dreams

and pricks my tongue

to speak of morning

POEM: snowflakes from my pen

my words

falling like snowflakes

from my pen

catch them on my tongue

the page

before they hit the ground

and melt away

POEM: Final Resume

Cemetery space
speaks more about life
than what lies beneath speaks of death
Each grave unique
tho fundamentally the same
like the divided cubical
in a corporate office maze
personalized
to make the time there more pleasant
less drudgery
more like home

The larger, grander stones
like the coveted corner office
(only no window, no view)
bigger doesn’t always mean better

I guess
not more talented
just more visible
more outspoken
self-promoting

There are tiny stones
some half obscured by overgrown grass
The entry level position perhaps?

But most graves are middle management
the rank and file
each making quiet statements
about who they were or wished to be thought of

There’s a pecking order
organization, structure
even in death
an impenetrable glass ceiling
but no one works their way up that ladder
the final resume on permanent file
a job description carved in stone
Literally!

POEM: tinnitus

silence i miss you

your beauty unnoticed

until you went away

i will never win you back

it's over for good now

i should have appreciated you

but i didn't know

you would have a reason to leave me

forever

breaking my heart

shattering it loudly

so loudly

endless echoing sorrow

till i hear no more

POEM: Separation

mountain ridge

brutal slash across the horizon

gaping wound

separating earth and sky

how could you?

POEM: Hungry Muse

Feed the Muse

give Her books

poetry and art

movies and shows

even websites and blogs

to devour

to distract

a filling detour

She will be hungry for Them

an immense appetite

unquenchable thirst

elixir

to prime the Pump

and churn out Work

the reward

satiation

brief

it's feeding time again all too soon

an empty plate

equals an empty page

POEM: to know better

To accept responsibility
is to accept your pain
that place you acted out of
because you didn’t know any better

Now you don’t want to know any better
even tho it’s in front of you
confronting you

Because to know better
would mean you have to do better
and to do better would be to know
to admit
to own
that you should have done better
done things differently
would have done things differently
if they’d been different for you
better for you

But they weren’t
better
or different
and that hurts
to know

doesn't it?

POEM: Tidbits

I like small poems

seemingly harmless

they are tasty soundbites

torn off in small portions

nibbling

at thoughts and realizations

little by little

barely noticed

until there's nothing left

devoured

bones revealed

no scraps

no leftovers

only crumbs remain

POEM: Black Gold

My mother leaves my coffee can open

morning is stale, flat, weak

She uses the last slice of bread

noon is empty, unfullfilled, hungry

My mother put rotten food back in my refrigerator

my evening is disturbed

Why?

She says she didn't know where I wanted to put it

thought I had a special place

for things spoiled

I do

my childhood memories make handy containers

my dreams compost the scraps

slumbering, steaming, changing

awake I sift through the clumps

and enrich my writing with the best

of the worst

POEM: Alice in Writer-land

Poetry is easy

just follow the rabbit

and trust that the hole

leads somewhere

Fiction is hard

you have to convince

someone that there was a rabbit

and describe the hole

without revealing too much all at once

letting the reader follow you instead

and discover Wonderland for themselves