Posts for 2025 (page 16)

fuzzy bumble knot you did not
give fair warning
looping down all twee-ly 
into a violent beeline to a hip
& zip over to a thigh–
the burn delayed a split-second
before I could flap my hat wildly
& miss cursing–
you bobbing bobbling to the roof
you diving driving at me again–
an angry stripey pompom
clinging to my watchband
slipping your stinger into my wrist

what did I do to deserve this indiscriminate stinging–
these jabs into my legs & wrist–
this holy trinity of needling throb & itch–
when I was only standing on my porch

is this payback for 
the thwacks of a cheap badminton racket
twanging woodbees from a porch long-ago
or your venomous benediction:
forgo a watch &
forget steps & time– 
revert to reflexive wildness–
swell & scratch & cuss

✨Soul Mirror✨

I rise with the morning,
still heavy with sleep from the night before.
Birdsong greets the world
a soft hymn that quiets the ache,
older than the mountain view from my stoop.

I open the cupboard,
searching for a mug
to fill with the sweet decadence of something hot.
The warmth seeps in,
soothing what’s sore.

I choose my mug like I choose myself-
chipped, perhaps,
faded at the edges.
Whole and brand new.
Old and questionable.
Tacky, sometimes.

In these small, strange moments
realization strikes,
and my old poet’s heart beats quicker.
Inspiration lives here,
in the quiet,
in the choosing,
in the sip.
In every breath I finally remember to take.

Today, I stand before you,
 and I speak these words from my whole heart:

You are loved by me,
 in every moment we have shared,
 and in every moment still to come.

You will be loved by me,
 through laughter that fills our home,
 and through tears we may not yet know.
 Through bright mornings and restless nights,
 through certainty and through the unknown.

In sickness and in health,
 I stand by you—
 when your strength carries us,
 and when mine will carry you.

You are loved by me,
 a promise made
 not only for a day,
 but a love that chooses you— every single day.

A commitment to our hearts.
This is my vow.
I will love you.

I
am made up of prisms.
Earlier as I lay in the Sunshine,
my arm over my eyes like a shield
squinting from the brightness of the sun,
I saw them.

There in the crook of my left elbow
were the prisms.
Hundreds, thousands maybe,
twinkling neon colored prisms.
Beautiful blue-green and rose
changing to yellow then orange
and back again.

Round little prisms!
I reflect.

Give no notice
to the opinions of others.
They think little of you.  Give
them no weight.  Hand stretched
warm around your cup,
you are alive.
Your very existence proof
that you are loved.

how can your world mean so much to me when my world doesn’t mean anything to me? 

i give & 

            give & 

                    give 

until there is nothing left of me 

look here. at me begging 

on my knees 

for you not to leave me 

i care so deeply for your feelings 

yet so little for my own 

i am willing to burry myself 

for your comfort 

make myself smaller        

                                until i am dust     

                                                       particles 

you breathe me in 

and i kiss your lungs

being thankful i have landed somewhere

                                                                safe

until you exhale me out 

    once more 

the curtians left open
for the light is full
to bath my self as an ally
Of a Strawberry Moon
Smooth and full and ready to be pulled
in the dark of the light
open and never left hoping

Walk dog no my.
Not really.
Lazy today lazy day lazy.
Shining overhead,
I finally
am sun.
Dog cupboard
empty is
no bones.
Sunglasses broken. 

and i watch from helpless floods

as my patriarchs fade into the hallways

of humid hospitals as their organs

leak into the yellowing smoke

crusted into the walls; Abuelito’s

brain is bleeding, and my father’s

heart is weak, and he says it is just

one thing after the other ever since

his mother’s cancer came to rock

the saltwater shores of our comfort,

all the ignored calls and days spent

rotting in front of screens. And all

of the sudden I am helpless again

like a child again yelling again

where did they go

where did he go

is a brain wave
in a woman’s remembered
understory
an electrical pulsing
of bark and bloom
whimsical sunset companion
vivid ripples waiting
wanting only
to be acknowledged
as a keepsake
the glory
how light baptizes leaves                                 

                                                               For Stella