Find a place, a comfy nook
ask a bunny to share a book
within the leafy willow sill
upon a flowery sunny hill
Reading words hare bodies still
Creekside cool watery wood
nested high upon a tree stand
reading you stood
Lying on your soft summer bed
Oh my sweet little sleepyhead
See the stacks of stories you’ve read!
Dad leans forward in his chair
and listens with his eyes closed
to Israel Kamakawiwo‛ole today.
In Hawaii,
dressed in Army fatigues,
Dad waited all day at the airport
for his wife and infant son
to get off of a plane
they had never boarded.
I do not know my half-brother.
I only know this much
and that his mother had red hair.
Still,
I won’t interrupt the music with questions.
Dad taps his knee to Israel’s voice,
his forearm muscles pulsing
under a faded eagle tattoo.
First, you worry about what they think.
What should you wear, how does your
hair look? What does your voice sound
like when you respond to others?
Later, you notice how you feel when
you are around other people. Why do
I feel anxious when I’m in her presence?
How is it that I am questioning myself
everytime he is around?
Next, you begin to hear yourself
talking to you inside your head. Why
do I let this person have any effect on
me at all? Why don’t I speak up when
that person is being a jerk?
Eventually, the voice inside your head
is louder than the chatter in the room.
“Hey you, that anxious feeling you are
experiencing is coming from you!”
“Stop questioning your own ideas,
you don’t need reassurance from
those who don’t know you.”
Listen to the voice inside. It knows you
better than anyone else in the room
KW
6/14/2022
I.
I used to marvel
at your face, but
I looked too long,
& now it’s cast in the shade
of a better lover
II.
did i use to be marvelous
for you?
does it even matter now
that my marvel has dimmed?
Soft leaf whispers
butterflies’ dance
purr of soft wind
gamboling clouds
sun jeweled waves.
My summer loves.
-Sue Neufarth Howard
Do I really need
six extra pairs of under-
wear? You never know.
Frantically ask-
ing, “Who’s got the Advil?” when
it’s in my suitcase.
Choosing the correct
tee for each day is a matt-
er of life or death.
Scrambling from bathroom
to bedroom and back again,
my heroic quest.
The ghost of forgett-
ing haunts me, though I
(might have) remembered all.
Zip and lock suitcase
bulging with toiletries and
spare outfits. There’s no
turning back now. Bags
roll down the hallway, a par-
ade of squeaky wheels.
“Do not tighten
screws until all
pieces are fitted correctly.”
Practice patience,
let the universe bring
what it would
serve you to
the table.
Look carefully for
missing parts, poorly
drilled holes, stripped
screws and shoddy materials.
“It is recommended
that two adults
complete assembly.”
Oh well.
What do they know.
I am as human as the moon is
In pareidolia each crater aligns
A face from stone, an old muse
You make believe what you want
I’ll say nothing, cold and spiraling
The emotion on my face is only
A projection from a distant star
You are my guts full of poison,
