Forgotten Rules
I had such a good time tonight
I forgot the rules of my life,
My day would be ruined any other,
But tonight, I feel free.
I had such a good time tonight
I forgot the rules of my life,
My day would be ruined any other,
But tonight, I feel free.
It hit me today, while I was eating a grilled cheese.
Late night drinks
In a small town pub
The couches are worn down
And the drinks are strong
My best friend across the way
Going on about some boy
It’s the small moments
Like this, that I feel deeply
They mean the world to me,
A Friday night reoccurrence
But something I dream of all week
we lived in this little house trailer
he said
must’ve been three times
as long as it was wide
and so unlevel
used to toss marbles down
and they’d roll all the back
under my bed
and one day we had this water leak
sure enough
it was two feet deep back there
mom was hysterical about
what were we gonna do
until dad went out to the car
got his .38 out
shot a hole through my bedroom floor
dry by morning
Their harsh honks
echo in that bowl—
That a pair could make such a racket—
A call and response?
Or simultaneous prayer?
My thoughts circle faster
than they swim straight.
security
it is not held in sameness
it is not perfection
it is not the absence of pain
it is the active pursuit of
repair
time
again and
again
again, weaving
vulnerability
through and
out
the ear
to heart
my vision’s gotten worse.
i type this without glasses,
trusting my fingers to carry
me thorought line by line,
pressing the right keys.
i trust myself and lean
on the sturdiest foundation
i know.
The smell of coffee…
Waking up in my childhood
home, getting ready for school,
standing in front of the fireplace
warming my clothes.
Mom is there,
a cup in her hand.
She rests it on the mantle.
Expertly brushing and braiding
two long braids, over my head
goes the slip, one arm, then
the other slides into the
freshly ironed sleeves of my
bright white blouse, so many
buttons down the front, pearlescent,
most of them hidden under the
brown woolen jumper, handmade.
She takes a sip from the white cup
trimmed in grey, then pulls up my
white kneesocks and feet slipping
into black patent leather shoes
with a strap across the top of each foot.
A last drink and she heads
back to the kitchen to top
off her cup, finishes packing
three lunches, puts butter,
brown sugar and milk in my
oatmeal, checks on my sisters,
hugs and kisses as we follow
Dad out the door.
She stands there, the light
from the living room behind her,
her coffee steaming in her cup,
the house quiet now.
She will wash clothes with
a wringer washer, work on
the dress she’s making for Kim,
clean the breakfast dishes,
prepare food for supper,
her cup will always be full.
6/14/24
KW
You wore Mom’s wedding dress
I, big sister chauffeur for the day and Maid of Honor
Daddy sat to your left on that W I D E rear bench seat
I snapped a permanent never-to-fade photo of Dad and Daughter
Never thought of myself . . . never thought, where’s my Prince Charming?
As Dad slipped out the backseat he winked and whispered,
“This will happen for you one day!”
I didn’t feel his vision, wisdom or fatherly protection,
I didn’t feel . . .
Just too worn down trying to figure out how to get my own piece of the ‘Happiness Pie’
and Mrs. wasn’t wired into it
I wore light camel Candies, no nylons, a thin white see-thru cotton blouse and skirt
I felt fat
My dress too casual for a ‘Maid of Honor’
My hair too short, bangs flipped out
Before the ceremony, in the sacristy, we laughed like sisters
light-hearted, poised before the pretend
Your flowered haiku lei, too wide for your head
I tied it round your thin waist instead
Mom weighed 107 when she wore the very dress you were wearing
As you exchanged wide bands of gold ~ inscribed inside to be told
“I AM that I AM”
I cried happy tears when you said, “I DO!”
when you slow down,
you realize just how much movement
there truly is all around us:
Whitman’s creek,
your grandfather in the cardinals,
the mama raccoon,
the roly polies,
the wind,
our breathing,
yet somehow everything feels so still
later, the sun
a bright orange orb
sinking into the horizon
beams through the painted, full clouds:
i look over, & your eyes read my poetry
there’s nothing here but love
