I don’t think I’ve ever met a stupid poet.
Can’t even imagine one really
except
maybe
the ones who write those greeting cards
and those birthday cards
and those well I’m sure you get my drift so let’s just say
the ones who write those drugstore cards
for pay,
but even they’re not stupid really
they’re just
well
more like sentimental cynics on parade.
I have one stray thought about you
after years.
And suddenly all the memories
and fantasies
come flooding back.
I can’t stop playing “What if?”
I can’t stop daydreaming about you
and wishing you would visit me
in my dreams.
I ache for time lost
and paths not taken.
I should wish away this pain
but it’s laced with pleasure.
And I’m sure it has
an expiration date.
Some day I won’t pine for you
like this.
I won’t think about you
every day.
My heart won’t scream your name.
You won’t be the thought
that turns me on.
But I can’t imagine that day.
I know that
what is for me
is for me.
Yet, you should have been
mine.
I’m torn.
As much as I want you for myself,
I also hope you found someone,
that someone is loving you
the way you always wanted to be loved.
I hope you’re happy
and you have a good life.
Maybe believing that
is the key to letting you go.
(I keep hoping
I’ll write my way to the answer.)
But I will also have to
believe
that I’m worthy
of the love we could have had.
And that somewhere
it’s still out there,
still possible,
someone else as wonderful as you
wanting me.
I put this desire to bed
for another night
as I try to
say goodbye
to my dream of you.
I want to write a poem for you, but I struggle to find words to adequately portray what a great love & loss you were. I saw your daughter this weekend. She’s all sunshine & honey, and a little piece of heaven all swaddled up in a baby blanket. I hope you can see her from up there. I hope you know that you died for the ultimate miracle and she is perfect. I hope you know we will never let her forget how much you loved her, and your boys. We all miss you so much. I wish I could be more poetic today, but all I can be is honest. We love you, mama.
I sat huddled with a kid
on either side,
pressed against a fallen tree
and wedged beside a stump.
Lightning lit up the world
in purples and oranges
echoed by strikes of thunder.
Rain poured on us,
cold cascading in streams
as it ran against my skin.
We shielded ourselves with an
emergency blanket
waiting
and hoping it would relent.
Our bodies all closest
they’d been since
they were babies.
Me, their only comfort in the
raging storm.
We come to the park to make phone calls
under the shade of trees carefully selected
by the Parks department.
Two women sit on a blanket talking,
oblivious to the multitude of children
playing on the shining merry go rounds
They make them flush with the ground now
calling to her daughter,
That’s too fast Savannah!
Come over here and play on something else!
Teenagers survey the park
looking for one another,
or babysitting, I don’t know.
I’ve never known what teenagers were up to
even when I was one.
I push my children on the swings.
A scent wafts over me from
a little girl with a big yellow bow.
She smells of sunshine and shampoo.
Freshly cleaned, just to get dirty again.
The children are vibrant but after awhile
Just various arrangements of
On the bench, a man calls out to his children
Would you like me to push you?
Do you want me to keep your backpack?
Why don’t you let me hold your paper?
He is asking the question we all have eventually
yellow bell peppers
are the only ones that taste okay
like yellow squash
is the only one my brother’ll eat
yellow is the color
that tastes best
on summer days
or spring nights
pineapple bits
and cold lemonade
banana shakes
with cheescake as dessert
filling is the yellow food
served as
refreshing mango popsicles
or steamed corn on the cob
the treat that lasts
through seasons
and grows
throughout the year
honey tea
with baked biscuits
cheerios and
ripe bananas
all of this what gets me through
the flow of time
She sighs,
Thinking,
I’m up here.
Dumb ass.
