One beautiful broken China doll,
all glued together,
after being destroyed by its mother.
I got through the cracks,
and viewed how fragile,
he really was.
I cut myself on sharp edges,
of what at first glance appeared,
to be carefully crafted Kintsugi art.
I picked the ceramic pieces from the ground,
and attempted to mend what was broken.
Only to learn,
if you glue the pieces back together with blood…
You’ll bleed out and die.
He wasn’t ready to be loved.
hello June,
welcome, glad you’re here, et cetera
it’s as if summer can officially begin
now that you’ve arrived
perhaps winter takes longer to recover from than I thought
we endure, don’t we?
days and days until
finally we see the evidence
the rosebush has bloomed
resilience kicked in at some point
and here we are
best wishes, enjoy your stay, again…et cetera
Bought My Sister’s Property at Auction
This year of rain
flooded my basement
soon after I moved in.
The drain
took eight days of torment
and nights before I win
the battle, sweeping
each of ten daily,
nightly attacks,
sweeping,
every thirty minutes, wearily,
water toward the sump pump, wet tracks
following me upstairs each step I take.
My friend, my age, laughed bent over,
when I told her we had become seriously aged.
“Seriously aged? What does that mean?”
No more greeting card humor, I responded, covering
up the facts, poking fun at 50 or even 60,
as if it were all one big joke. No one teases
us about being 79.
It’s the real thing.
My friend stopped laughing for a bit, “Seriously?
It is all one big joke, isn’t it?
I forget about it most of the time.”
Well, I do, too, I answer.
But I forget a lot of things.
1
the wind in your face
the breath of the Atlantic
gives you mouth to mouth
2
a gull fights the breeze
hovers just above your head
a kite on a string
3
the sound of the waves
thunders over & over
there is nothing else
4
the ocean wants us
the undertow pulls us in
the sirens calling
5
footprints in the sand
the tide erases them all
we were never here
We at the Farmer’s Market miss you!
In fact, just yesterday the corn
was asking about you.
Wind that covers skin like a thin layer of frost
Seeking out the kiss of the sun
So wonderful and warm
Breathing in air that catches at the back of the throat
Chilled and cool as the breath escapes
Exhaled hot evaporating into the clouds
Apricity
Such a word that creates
A tingling upon the tongue
With how the sounds click
From the teeth to tongue
Apricity
Such a feeling that expresses
Joy of the autumn sun across my face
Yet laments the sorrow of knowing
Summer has ended
And the light grows shorter
Each passing day
The parula’s notes cascade
up the scale as if seeking
a loft where birdsong gems rest,
facets of every color
bathing in June’s sunshine—wren’s
golden tones, robin’s ruby
cheer, song sparrow’s emerald trills.
I can’t see what I see but I see it
I can’t hear what I hear but I hear it
That’s the conundrum
That’s the trick
Us not solving it makes us sick
