You are light
and warmth
when my soul is frozen.
You are a symphony of quiet
when my insides
are too loud.
You are peace
in the vortex of chaos
that is life.
You are thunder,
shaking me from
stillness.
You are a brilliant light,
eclipsing the darkness
that enshrouds my heart.
You are not
mine.
You will never be
mine.
But for the time I have you—
for as long as you are with me—
I will count you as mine.
You are a facet of friendship
I never thought to seek—
nor knew I needed.
This morning I track our cat
who is tracking a chipmunk
who is sitting perfectly still
on the rock wall that runs under
the cherry tree by the pond.
I see our intrepid hunter turn
her attention away from her prey
and turn her gaze toward the pond
to just above the yellow irises
and there you are facing away,
standing on a flat stone
with one leg lifted to your knee
in a tai chi pose that you hold
for an infinite second.
Slowly you bring your attention
down to the level of the water
where a green heron waits
with its dagger-like bill perched
over the liquid surface waiting
for a frog to give itself up.
Struck by the mystery of this tableau
I fall in love with the chipmunk,
our cat, the cherry tree, the stone wall,
the irises, the pond, you, the heron
and the poor doomed frog.
i fall in love with the thought
that in this instant we all exist
and soon will not
you say
they say
“fat folx can’t enjoy summer”
wet heat hugs
thick limbs
portruding middles
friction erupts
from body parts
in love
with the touch of
the other
summer loving
don’t belong to fat bodies
in heat
how can it
when
the world insists
all this body
moving
expansion
must hide under
synthetic blends?
feet once fit inside brown leather
you know this
no pair exists without adornment
so the wonder
stills your thoughts of who and what
they looked like
an etched dream forms in your eye
between lanes
until you see someone staring back
just like you
Blasting the music
out all my windows.
The roads go by in
a flash and somehow
the drive home might
have been sweeter. If
only you were there
to listen with me.
Stilling my mind is
willfully avoided.
If I allow myself too
much quiet alone
time, all the filing
cabinets fly open,
memories and incidents,
pain and disappointment
all erupt from their
carefully arranged
system of cautious
ambivalence like so
many little brown bats
leaving the cave at dusk.
Only, those little bats come
back to roost.
I am left to grapple
with where to file
the death, the illness,
the trauma, the mislaid
plans.
6/6/25
KW
I rolled out of bed today
at 9:00 in the morning
that’s a lie
it was actually 2 in the afternoon
and I was asleep on the couch
My best friend questions me
how could I sleep like that
go to bed at 5 AM
after watching hangover 2
Her guess is as best as mine
the only explanation I have
is I like it that way,
and I don’t believe I could ever casually wake up at 9
You see, my dear,
There are men who assume that women don’t understand certain complexities and nuances,
So they unnecessarily over-explain certain situations.
This is called “mansplaining.”
Oh, wait.
I’m doing it.
Sorry.
