Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

normandy

as a man
lays dying
it’s not god he asks for
it’s mama

*For Frankie DeVita from Brooklyn

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

irreplaceable things

i wouldn’t call it an altar

it’s less official
merely a shelf of irreplaceable things

two garnets
the twins’ birth stones

a statue sculpted
by a local artist named mckeown
of me
holding the boys
right after they were born

a silver piece from my brother

a two dollar bill from my grandfather

memaw’s watch and engagement ring

a rosary i bought when i was 10 from a thrift store because it spoke to me

and a small framed photograph
of my mother and father
taken after a late night of playing rook
with friends

him standing behind her
when they were in love

my father eyes are full of whiskey
my mother sober as a baptist judge
and you can tell by the way
she cradles his hands
around her waist
that she is tired
and keenly aware
all things are fleeting

it wasn’t until this day i noticed
they are posed
by the back door of our long ago little house
in the picture

as if they are leaving

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

thank you for always having a piano

thank you, mom

for making me
the daughter
of red injuns
white pastors
tobacco farmers
beauty queens
swaggering outlaws
and world famous circus giants

thank you
for my self worth
legs
breasts
and sass

thank you for the thousandth book
you ever read to me
and lined the walls of my room with
hard bound histories passed down through the family
golden books, encyclopedias, dictionaries

thank you for giving me my grasp of language as a gift

thank you for making kentucky my cradle
and giving me cincinnati as my own personal museum and medical library

thank you for every time your arms have caught me as i was falling

thank you for always having a piano

thank you for your love

thank you, mom

for making me

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

god lives in your mother’s kitchen

saturday
you are lovely
in your late morning robe

my ears have forgotten alarm clocks exist

invited to the table
by a red rosebush
i have tea with my closest ghosts

remembering

god lives in your mother’s kitchen

blueberry bagels are making the tangerines suspicious

i tell them julia child credited her longevity to red meat and gin

a cherry tree trial convenes beyond the window

the robin in the nest
just confessed
she was mae west
in another life