with millions of pairs of
eyes staring expectantly
who could blame her
for hiding in the shadows
blushing in embarrassment
thankful for the gauze of
cloud cover drifting past
shielding her briefly
until she was ready
for the slow move
back into light
Monthly Archives: April 2014
joined
my mother’s left arm
is longer than her right
there is an extra crease
on the inside of her elbow
about half an inch
from the usual one
that she used to say
the elders used to say
was the site of attachment
of a fully formed limb
to an endless arm
in a previous life
i listened to her tales
and afterward contorted
my body searching
all my joints for a similar
sign of connection
heartbleed bug
of course it’d be called that
with each vicious heartbeat
eliciting an automatic response
pulling random bits from memory
shadows of recent transactions
we both hoped to leave behind
INH fatigue
been feeling more and more
like a self-winding watch lately
no problems ticking along
thanks to kinetic energy
but stop to rest for a while
and the getting going again
tends to be a bit shaky
twilight reading
the sun has set
and i could steal
a few more precious
minutes of light
by facing away
from the western sky
but sometimes
there is more wealth
in the turning of clouds
than of pages
like water
she comes with soft fingers
tracing a broken outline
flowing around obstacles
carving into the breaks
reconnecting the fragments
into something wholly changed
oh, right
told him that i had
about four weeks
of vacation saved
so he asked
where do you want to go?
told him the where
didn’t really matter
so much as the who
i’d be going with
so he asked again
where do you want to go?
spring
my boys keep changing with the seasons
one has a new voice, barely a month old
that rumbles like slow rolling thunder
and still takes us all by surprise
and his brother has wispy whiskers
sprouting proudly upon his chin
like weeds after scattered showers
they keep bouncing out
his cardboard target
has no bullseye
the center has been
struck so many times
it’s worn away
all that’s left
is a patch of shadow
burrowed between
two bales of hay
that’s lost its taste
for arrows
no work
don’t thank me
loving your children
is as easy as standing
off to the side of a room
and letting my arms
reach out to rest
upon their slender shoulders
each time they silently
sidle up and lean in
for the span of three
of their hummingbird
heartbeats