I am learning that my skin
is just so much leather
save for those places
where it’s some type of paper; and my
actions are words
emblazoned
in inks of all kinds
my heart / beat tracing
an unsteady line from collarbone to collarbone
(healed fracture, a superscript)
with fingertips ever pigment-dusting,
rime after rime.
a pair of red metallic heart
shaped balloons anonymously
tethered to the car handle
cozying up to the living room ceiling
the past eighty-three days
just might come out on top
Raised by my mother’s stained glass reflection.
You pray even if he doesn’t always listen.
And count your blessings, there might not be many,
But she reminds you, “A blessings a Blessing.”
She taught us that the grass wasn’t always greener,
maybe that was her way of keeping us satisfied.
When you’re happy with what you’ve been given, you don’t go searching for all you could ever imagine.
she’d serve skinny strips of bacon
sweating grease in a styrofoam pan
to first-grade me as an afterschool snack
sometimes flaccid, like silicone
with bubbly boils. other times
like charred china you’d be too
afraid to handle lest its brittle
break, crumble into twenty-odd shards
but always cold, left over from lunch
her voice would tremble, crackle low
but i don’t recall a thing she said
We’re all dreamers, we don’t know who we are.
From: “Mother and Child” by Louise Gluck
1)
I was four and liked
to slither under
the kitchen table
where cool linoleum
and silk-edged blanket
aided my beloved thumb sucking.
Mid-morning the women
made lunch and I’d slide
silently beneath their
dresses to peek up
into the great darkness
of that veiled world.
2)
Once, I remember coming out
from below to see
Aunty’s twisted face
filled with tears. I knew
it was not because of me
she was wringing her hands
and chanting: I don’t know…
I don’t know…I don’t know
Droplets clinging
to empty branchs
Tiny prisims
awaitng the sunlight
How beautiful!
Each one capable of
reflecting the colors
of the raibow
Fog – Mist – Dew –
Morning is filled with moisture
Frosted sparkling leaves
Tiny crystals that catch the light
of the morning sun
soon vanish
In awe of the beauty
and thankful for the delight
each sighting brings
my prayer of gratitude
is offered
She sews from daylight to dark
