Legs
Pop of a ligament
crack of a joint
this
ever-familar
ache
won’t
last forever
but
the soreness
sure
does
make it
seem
that way.
One day
my laugh will be too loud and my habit of leaving the cabinet doors wide open will become a tedious task
Go behind me
pick up after me
I never learned to clean up as I went
you’ll roll your eyes at my stack of half read books
and my full arms as I carry more in
you’ll be angry
at evrything
falling out of love
Is actually just
seeing what you once chose to ignore
no longer blinded by excitement
the intoxication fading
you’ve lost you buzz
the honeymoon phase is ending
Romeo declares the bitter end
The palm tree
outside my hotel room
patio leans to the left.
Some hurricane tried to push
it down, but it didn’t fall.
Instead,
it
grew
sideways.
No, it does not
stand tall, but
nonetheless
it does stand
unbroken.
Standing in the garden, feet planted
hip-width apart, bent at the waist over
an abundance of ripe raspberries, snacking
directly from the branches, smacking
the sweet—I remember my vow to skip
buying flowers for my pots
this year. In protest. If my beloved sister
is going to be given this diagnosis,
is going to be in pain, I’m not bringing beauty
into the universe. This cruel universe conspires
against us. Still, I drove to the nursery to look.
Picked out pink caladiums with green-edged
leaves, stained-glass coleus, regal red and fuschia,
purslane, with its spongy leaves and jewel-colored
petals—and nasturtiums, already trailing
from their too-small containers, tender buds ready
to burst tangerines and peaches. At the register,
I add bee bright red penta for the butterflies
and the hummingbirds. Just for today, I say
out loud. I load the car with new plants and flowers.
We’re on the same team.
She kills me anyway, laughs
so hard she can’t breathe.
