Posts for June 23, 2025 (page 5)

Chewing on War:

Reclining in the dentist’s chair,
I stare at the half-masked face.
Four lidocaine shots in and I’m
not entirely numb. The offending
tooth refuses sleep like an angry
child. The dentist crosses her arms. 
“Let’s think about this,” she says. 
Together, she and the hygienist
marvel at this impossible insomnia,
and I say I’d rather not be
such an interesting patient. 
New stratagems coax the toddler
tooth into fitful sleep, its eyes
fluttering in the equipment’s din. 
She asks if I want to go ahead.
I grip the chair and mumble “yes.”

Some day, I hope I can forgive you.

But for now, I need my rage

to survive you.

Spread peace like pollen
Be radical in beauty
Destroy the aphids

eating lunch in the
sixth grade cafeteria 
Beautiful Cursing
some days those words are useful
lately more days are like that

There’s a girl who so long, lived stagnant at ten
now time’s gnawing presence is fatal again
A kite tied to her wrist kept her grounded on earth
A kite of four colors by her side since birth

One color was green like a thumb is to plants
One color was red like a firefighter’s pants
One color was blue like she felt at it’s end
The last one was orange, a sunset, a friend.

But the colors turned grey as the years traveled by
And the girl did grow weary; each lost color, she’d cry
Until that last color grew grey and faded as well
After thirty one years her kite finally fell.

Now aging has started and she’s burdened to know
Without her kite, ten is over and it’s time now to grow.
She’ll look back in laughter and not through her tears
’cause she was lucky to have this kite for thirty one years.

•I became a new mommy again this year, here’s another tribute to motherhood

💞My Whole Heart
Tired eyes, frustrated sighs
they weigh on me
like a heavy summer storm.

But every time their laughter forms,
the breath of life returns.
With every bottle I fill,
with every bit of advice I give,
I find myself again.

Sisters to each other,
daughters to me.
The oldest, a mirror of my youth.
The youngest,
a wild force, bound to bring the hammer down
and change the world
with her grace alone.

And I’d do it all again
the tears,
the struggles,
the pieces of me buried
beneath the rubble
just to see their faces
shine.

Now, I’m truly happy.
These girls propel me forward,
pulling joy from the chaos
of our own little circus.

Motherhood has me
shedding old skins,
becoming someone new
my best self,
because of them.

Though eleven years apart,
they are sisters.
But to me,
they are my whole heart.

(Talking To Myself)

You spend most of your life
moving things around

The chair in the morning
is placed out of the sun
in the afternoon

A pile of books
follows you from room to room

A special stone from the Palisades
placed in the suitcase 
to fly with you 
to Temple Terrace

You pick up Penelope’s note,
her farewell,
among other things
it says
we are always 
within 
speaking distance

You tell yourself
to move it 
to your wallet
so you can exam it
more carefully
on the plane