anniversary

why do I hang on to 

his disgust for my grief

for you?

why make excuses 

for someone who should have cared

more for my heart than his selfish need

for denial?

blue detail

seven out of ten

fingertips warmed by a cup

on an autumn day

peaks

chickens at Blaze farm

don't think highly of children

they prefer lettuce

night sounds

over sounds of us

with background music playing

croakers croak louder

beachcomber

the ebb of ideas

no output, not a problem

the tide keeps flowing

barnacle

Some nights are hard.

ivy, my dear

scratch around poison

bubbling on skins surface

from tiny green leaves

Sunday

we rest on the day

recuperate energy

soaking in the sun

work phone

waiting for the phone

to install a new update

while birds chirp outside

priority

when I was little

my ice cream flavor of choice

was strawberry, pink

lumber jack

we associate

the smell of death with newness

cut trees in the yard

a break on cleaning day

a blend of spearmint and green tea

a swirl of honey from a local apiary

holding the mug under your nose

blocking out the smell of bleach

the sky is a strange color, the geese think so too

the night sky is blue
bright blue like a film made dark
geese honk from the bog

in the cards

let me be the one

white turkey feathered one

let me peck the soil

truth

Okay, I'm tired.

I just learned about that boat,

the big one, you know.

run off

take my cut, my take

my portion, a donation

let the water run

reckoning

moments made open

tucked between the light and dark

questions the sunrise

crackle

let the world crackle

contracting and expanding

like flowers in bloom

let's wonder

I wonder, are you

thinking of me as much as

I am wishing so

greenery

we are all tired

we are all trying our best

we are blades of grass

moss

in a dream with you

the spinning will not stop us

from discovery

heart

escape with my heart

pathetic in your big hands

red with blood and clay

date

movie night with you

and a big bowl of popcorn

your arm around me

hold

hold me upside down

count the reps and feel the burn

let me go. repeat.

wait

take pause and look up

growth will take repetition

a covered pathway

force

hot skin, pink cheeks burn

sweat smell mixed with 3am

and sleep disturbed

darker

wrapped up in light

incapable of feeling

for the door handle

attention

so we all want to

want a little attention

but not ask for it

shovel

don't open me up

crack the shell to see inside

it's all just dried leaves

extrovert

an endless scroller

desperate for some feel good

through the dirt and grass

drunk people should not try to make tea

at a party once

someone melted a kettle -

an electric one

bright

on both feet today

two hips to the beat and back

the sun is shining

meditation

force yourself to stop

deep breathing in, out, in, out

and wait for the sun

crush

if he wrote poems

about your curves and edges

would that be creepy?

lunch

ate a burrito

i made out of leftovers 

for breakfast at noon

kiss

collaboration

between lines between hot lips

overlooking snow

temp

multiple layers

to combat temperatures

fluxuation

ku

morning with myself

a hot cup of tea with milk

And upset stomach

hai

I say yes to the

torrent of emotion tied to

a diagnosis

something I do

Someone told me to write

My too-big-feeling feelings down

On small bits of paper

And burn them or throw them away

As a way to see the big feeling, name it

Then let it go, let it evaporate.

Someone told me this is what she does.

I didn't want to burn my feelings

So what if I wrote them down

Or origami paper

And turned them into cranes?

I walked to the store from my office

To get popcorn kernels for my husband.

There's a particular kind he says 

Pop bigger and they weren't there

When he went last. 

On my way back to my office

I remembered the art store.

Walked in and bought

Two packs of origami paper

One with designs visible

And one just white.

The white ones are for painting

With water colors before folding

And I thought I wouldn't end up

Using the white ones at all.

So I fold a couple birds a week

All colorful and filled with worries.

This is something I do now.

Tonight someone passed away

And I found an important use

For the blank white paper.

A white crane sits on the dining room table.

chocolate chips

A day filed under success

Ends with a cup of decaf tea

And a handful of milk chocolate chips

From a secret bag 

Stashed in a drawer

Filled with cupcake papers

And expired rainbow sprinkles

inside

written in sharp pencil
inside the wings of a paper crane

fears exposed in graphite
for no one to see.

he says

this is our morning - the alarm goes off
on his side of the bed. he sleeps facing west.

he rises his torso and says "stop" to the robot
that lives inside the display. she stops.

i stir. he turns and speaks, but i can't understand
because my ears are still asleep. my eyes stuck closed.

"wha?" i lift myself and he says "i love you."
and i say "oh" and then "i love you too" and after 16 years

it just occurs to me this morning
that the first thing he says to me each day

is "i love you" and i wonder how long he's been doing that
and i feel both careless and adored as i bang my head on the wall

while trying to get my slippers on so I can feed that cats.

Magic

I am catogorically

a kitchen witch. 

My wand is a wooden spoon

Interchangeable with a rubber spatula.

My spell books are filled

With easy to find ingredients

And detailed instructions

That are easy to misunderstand

Without experience 

And familiarity with tools of the craft.

The results, the creations,

Have turned cold hearts

Into pursed lips, sighs of satisfaction,

Strangers in submission to my powers

Of confections. Wielded with precision 

and always for a price. 

Always a fair price.