Posts for June 2, 2022 (page 13)

I’d rather die than wear a mask,
my student says unironically.
She tosses her long brown hair,
tells me she’s grounded in her faith.
I’m not worried about you, then,
I explain, but for the rest of them.
We do it for the others.  

A mask can save lives
unless there’s a gunman,
always a man,
in the elementary school,
the grocery store,
the college classroom,
the hospital,
the movie theater,
the concert,
anywhere.

Me, I don’t feel grounded,
in faith or anything else.
I feel like going to ground,
taking cover
from the maskless threat
I can predict,
the armed threat I can’t.
I pull in close for a day,
let my tears water the fallow ground,
believing (I have to believe)
there’s a crop of protests
and votes
growing.

I didn’t shoot the piano player.
I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.  

Hit me with your best shot –
joyously, I’ll sing “Fire Away!”  

But rifles spraying bullets at second grade
is way too Republican for me.  

Their right to bear arms
is a command to bury our children.    

Sorry is what you say when your mother tells you to,
even though you are shaking with rage because your sister took your doll
So you say it
because there is no arguing with Eyebrow-Raised-Mother,
her hand held high.  

Sorry is the lid that presses down on rage,
Compressing and compressing until it is your hot, white core  

Sorry is what you say when the principal tells you to,
even though you seethe with anger, because
you’ve been accused of cheating for looking round the room.
So you say it
Because there is no arguing with stern-mouthed-Principal,
her arms closed tight  

Sorry is the lid that presses down on anger
Shoving and shoving until it is stuffed in the crevice of your heart  

Sorry is what you say when the world tells you to
Even though you are simply walking, eating, breathing, existing
So you say it
Because there is no arguing with Hurry-Legged-Strangers
Their minds closed tight  

Sorry is the lid that presses down on pain
Squeezing and squeezing until you’re numb and tame  

During the pandemic quarantine, I learned

Imagine
having it all 
everyhting you wanted and more

My sister sin
the hunger got to her
She just wanted to keep eating

i decide
they say it is as easy as
that
the grudged offence
each new day calls me like a mother rallying her children to dinner
seeking out a seat at my table
the perpetrator
no idea i begin with their words
actions
cupped in shallowed hands tossed across
the stone walkway
fingers wiping clean chore done for another day
fed to the morning birds

peony
two weeks later
gone

Above the city
A woman hangs her sheets
in love with the smell of fresh air filtered through linen
that greets her as she snuggles into a single bed.

Above the city
A man tosses a plastic disc to a border collie
enamored with the dedicated attention his best friend devotes
to watching its flight.

Above the city
A couple quaffs a vintage of wine
thankful to be up up up
in pristine silks and hand-tooled leathers.

Above the city
A boy kisses a girl
adoring her seven-freckled face that smiles with forgiveness
for his fumbling lips.

Above the city
a priest atones
head bowed knees bent as he waits for the bells below or the blessing above to 
fall on his ear.

Above the city
a city
lovely in its loneliness
alone in its loveliness.

I never knew
how hard
it could be
to pick out
something
she would wear
an outfit
to send her
on her way
to eternity

I know I am
self depricating
and sad and angry,
and all the things that
make it impossible
to love me.
But, you do,
anyway. 

I know I can be
intrusive
and loud
and too big
in our small home. 

I wish my anger and
bitterness
wasn’t so palpable.
But it is,
and you love me,
anyway. 

You are like
silk,
and you feel
so good
but if you pulled
at all,
you would slip through
my fingers
because I can’t wrap my hands
around you.