Thursday, April 28, 2011

Unexpected Visitor

So the oddest thing

happened this morning,

the third day

since the beginning of

the spring monsoon.


I was sipping hot tea,

lost in thought,

watching the rain

weep from the sky.


A female mallard

sauntered up my circle drive,

her handsome friend

waited in the wings.


She waddled determinedly,

as though she had something

to speak to me about,

maybe to borrow

a cup of birdseed or

invite me to book club,

although it might be unlikely

we shared the same taste

in literature.


Perhaps it was to complain

about the noiseness of my hens,

or to protest their spreading gossip.


I imagined, as she swung her

tail feathers purposefully

en route to my front stoop,

that she was sporting

a stylish handbag

tucked under her wing,

a flashy pair of all weather boots

keeping her webbed feet dry.


As I cracked open the front door,

I fully expected her to say,

"Good day, Mrs. Hill.

May I join you for tea?"

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

April 27

Stickiness

Not a stick of lip

but for lip

not a stick of night

but for skull

a certain disincentive

to resist.

***

Not a stick of slap

but laugh

not a stick of chop

but mouth

certainly leans in for

a bite.

***

And then

a long length of bread,

inches to make a yard,

and a grip to make, oh yes,

make joy.


Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Spring, where art thou?

The rain.

It falls,

it falls,

still falling.

The heaviness of

the gloom wears

on me,

it's grayness,

like a waterlogged

life jacket,

pulling me under,

with no end in sight.

April 24 Poem

Frogs hop in, and the rain falls

where my daughter sleeps in rooms

full of jungle, beneath a mosquito net

and the sound of roosters.

***

In the north I tap the pond’s ice

with my foot, breaking it into plates

so thin I know this is spring,

its weak start

***

and somewhere down in the muck

the frogs have wintered. Raking, I pull

leaves back from the cold toads,

then bury them again,

***

both of us surprised: me by such round

white bellies, suddenly, them

by the air and bright light of April.

Soon enough all the amphibians

***

will sing summer bright and warm,

sing rains down. And soon enough the girl

will come home. Not soon enough.

But eventually.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Like Nothing Else

As lovely as the first real sign of spring,
After a menacing Minnesota winter.
As refreshing as an ice cold drink,
On the hottest of summer days, when it's too hot to step outside.
As beautiful as your most precious moment,
Unforgettable, bringing forth a smile each time you reminisce.
As admirable as a soldier,
Who's been there and back.
And it's unique in it's own way,
It's truth,
And it'll always set you free

Thursday, April 21, 2011

I Just Want To Matter

When I saw him,
Hurt reached inside of me,
And grabbed my heart
Tears stung the backs of my eyes,
Threatening to fall
My thoughts froze,
Unable to process anything other than his image

My eyes move to the word
Incarcerated.
I’m elated,
At least he isn’t dead
And this means I still have a chance.
To find out who the hell he is
Since I am a part of him

I see, ironically
It was sale of a controlled substance
I ask whoever is listening,
Although my apartment is empty,
How do you sale the very same substance you use?
The one that ruined your life,
Turned you into a fiend
The very same substance you are a prisoner of
And not surprisingly I,
Or anyone else listening,
Couldn’t fathom an answer

And silence embodies me,
As it all comes back to me,
Every promise he ever made and broke,
The tears I shed,
Missing and wanting him near,
The absence always years at a time,
His presence never longer than a month in time

And the hurt that grabbed my heart,
Grabbed tighter,
The tears that threatened to fall,
Burst from my eyes like water bursting through a weak dam,
The thoughts,
A mixture of memories, and anger
Raced

Breath escapes me,
Barely
Because my world has paused for just a second
My entire life,
I didn’t matter to him,
All the while wanting to.

And still I would rather live a life with him,
Than without.
"No one wants to be invisible,
Everyone just wants to be seen."--Jazmine Sullivan 'Famous'

april 21

My long day’s doctor’s doctored me:

gin; a slice of orange; warm soup.

***

Still, my sadness goes traipsing after

the milkman, won’t come home to roost.

***

If we could call it home, or sadness,

the medicinal ice shivering in the glass;

***

if we could mistake, once and for all,

bird for eye, silence for a lack

***

of disaster. The banker will call anyway,

the mortgage dropping its coins

***

into his satchel. In black and white days

he was the villain, but now no one

***

minds his Mercedes.

You must pay! But I can’t pay! You

***

must/I can’t, etc. Thus the gin

and a sort of rattle near my spleen,

***

yellow dog curled at my feet.