
Category: traditions
Ha!! Me, too…
Poof* Take MY water

I’ve done my share. Coast to coast.
I’ve done my share of poet husbands, too.
bravado poet he was
and i dumbly followed
fully knowing
his titles were shit
with a snake oil smile
performative assholery
but it took a near death
blood loss event
near wild boar swamps
in an Arkansas tar pit
to see
the true excrement
was the content
of his character
Paris in the rain
a woman’s life
is too tenuous
delicate
billowy
spider web
close call on I-75
in preterm labor
on the way to the
Paris airport
in the rain
fragile
beautiful
precious
sacrosanct
finite
for bad friends
bad family
bad coffee
bad shoes
bad mattresses
bad jobs
bad husbands
bad debt
and bad dick
learn this by 30 for maximum
enjoyment
future
female
conquerors
of a dying planet
no elegy
no elegy
for me, please
i plan to die
with laugh lines
i put on some water for tea
then decided to mop the floors
of our new little nest
before the furniture gets carried in
before the rest of our lives happen
Murphy’s Oil Soap
water and sunshine into a bucket
carried through the echoing emptiness
of what will be
over original hardwood
placed there in 1941
i love to clean
the ritual of it
i write in my thoughts as i work
images painting themselves
into spaces around my gentle humming
spreading wet across the grain
seeing hands that mopped this floor
before me
wives husbands
fathers mothers
lovers and
put-upon teenagers
oh this house
has a history
built the year
the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor
it’s all still there
nailed down memories
layers of time entombed in wax
someone stood in that living room and heard
we dropped the bomb
we landed at Normandy
of a flag raised in Iwo-Jima
Kennedy was dead
Vietnam was a lost cause only good
for folded flags being handed to weeping mothers
Nixon was a crook
Reagan and John Lennon had been shot
the Berlin wall had fallen
i heard first steps
crying babies
crying widows
joyous laughter
say cheese
wine glasses clinking together
realizing with a smile
this floor is mine
the foundation of a family
and i will love it
then
the teapot
began to whistle
the twenty-seventh day of december
in a year
we did not share together
.
afterglow of christmas beaming
from the tree
through my scotch-taped-back-together soul
.
tis the season to ache infinitely
.
driving through light strands
of red and yellow traffic
to the art museum upon the hill
.
with the little park beside it
where the son we will never have
took his first wobbly
bear dripping honey grinning steps
.
into your arms as i watched filming
jumping and cooing the way a mother does
over the littlest triumphs
.
but we never were, darling
our lips never touched
.
our breathy kissed love affair
ether white wedding by the sea
raven haired children
are nothing
but a shared
far away dream
.
an assorted pile of glistening
christmas presents
never to be wrapped
accumulating beneath
my tinsel heart
the bedroom curtains
would be left open
upon my insistence
.
framed with clinging frost
to better gaze into the late evening sky
.
sure Santa Claus would find
his way through my stars
.
as i watched intently
from beneath
my Cabbage Patch Doll comforter
only to fall
fast asleep
listening for reindeer sleigh bells
.
not knowing
.
life is never what it seems
.
but exactly
what lies within
the human heart
.
may yours be filled
with love and hope
this happy Christmas night