Yvette Curtis 1988 to 2017

Poetry

Young Adult 1988 to 1994

God’s Plantings Love from a Parent 8/88 To Jill 8/8/87 You nurtured my seed, We walked together Brought in the rain Hand in hand And placed me near the sun. In the mountains long ago. You showed me love, And now my small branches I showed you a child, Wait for your pruning. And there a breeze did blow.

I tremble as the dead twigs I cried to you one Fall to the ground, Snowy day And showed you my broken heart. Forgetting that some Day my leaves You gave me a shoulder To rest my head Will reach I gave you a puddle of tears Eternity. On your bed.

We sang together, Hand in hand And love for you Is in my soul.

You gave me a mother I gave you a child

And my heart is full.

Best Friends To Tamar And now the sun 8/91 Is setting fast.

This morning we laughed Alone, I watch A strawberry laugh, It dip the sea. So red and new And bursting. Colors sprinkle, Fade away. Juicy-sweet upon My face, This day with Ready to jump and sing. you and me.

Today we sang a Butterfly song— Brightly hewed, And Zigzagged.

Colored voices in my ears, Forgetting the days that dragged.

This evening we Ran a windy race— All blurred and blue And whistled.

Sandy stones under Our feet,

Both of us young and old.

Rainy Days The Race 3/91 5/4/91

I once thought I’d be From whence comes the power Like the rain on my face, To run this race?

Falling so softly, To dig within myself the With rhythm and grace. Last fleeting heartbeat, Squirming to be free, I once thought I’d burst And set down upon this road? Through the clouds Like the sun— This road goes forever Winding up and up, Eyes turned to me, Triumphant. The day just begun. From whence comes the strength But now, at this bench, To move these legs? Hair down, Hands cold. To force these feet, So cold and cut, I think of my day, To move again, I’m not big or bold. On stony paths,

Small and silent, And speed forever, I clamor to feel, Up and on.

The sun on my face, Triumphant. The rain falling still. From whence comes the will To lift my head?

To fight this heavy, Tapestry Droopy mind, 8/15/91

And raise my eyes upon this path, Glistened laughter shines, Once and again. To look, Up, Summer’s sparkled Beyond, Strawberry juice, Forever. Mixed up and spotted Here and over. And see! Triumphant. Then busy-ness bumps, High and deep. From whence comes the rushing Of the wings? Coarse twines, of Dishes drizzling down Cool breeze, soft light And running legs To give and glow. Rushing up.

It beats my heart, Singing stretches far Shifts my feet, And tight, And leads me up and up, Forever. With strings of blue and gold While on this road I run, And bright.

Triumphant. Piano-harp of voices long, Makes a rainbow of the song.

Colors wide, long and high.

Burning deep, Lily Withering Lighting my eye. To Mom 4/90 I step back to take a look, Can you hear me? And see— I sing, I scream But your ears have No more threads, Cotton-balls of lead. But a tapestry. Can you see me? I dance, I dine But you look at me As if I’m dead.

But why this change? You asked to paint And I once played you

Symphonies.

And now, so close.

We do not see.

I stand singing

My harmony

And I’m a lily withering.

Dust from Emerald Time To Grandma LuLu 9/14/90 5/90 I’d like to paint your face. What stone has set your eyes so cold? Dip my hair in childhood colors They used to be a star-lit sea. Shake my head to curve the sea, Why don’t you move to my harsh call? Cartwheel down the midnight singing, When you once sang me melodies? Then spray the page—

You do not feel me press your hand. Memory. You do not smell chrysanthemums, But they lay round your feet so red, I’d like to sculpt your hands. Force my arm into seventeen clay. So red, and still, and blossoming. Pound the mud on slabs of cornfields. Squeeze and squirm the bells, the ringing. I will not close this coffin lid, Then bake the pot to make— Though years will make My hand grow cold. Today.

The others say that you are dead, I’ll poetry your feet. Dive my soul through clouds and foam. But I know dust from emerald. Whisp the words to rounded laughter, Ink the smiles and sun and singing. Then write it down— The song of

After.

My Sea Dear Mama 11/90 10/91

In my inner self I run. Dear Mama—

I’m a seagull Hands cold and dirty, I’m the sea. Age forty,

And you are here with smiling lips, Sitting in a chair And legs, Too big for you. And me. Dear Mama— I hear the waves I crash my feet Clothes not your own, And up my arm Undergrown, To shower the sand. You watch the air, Then low and heavy, Hearing memories. Seaweed, crab— Mommy, And silence smooth as your soft hand. I’d crawl to you But now I know walking. Waking up to strings and ringing, Whiny voice and one-plus-one. Baby goo-gaw to you But too fond of talking. But I’m the sea, Alive at sunset: Dear Mama—

In my inner self, Eyes wide and ears on, I run.

Someday. Two Birds Flying Apart 1/92 Let fly away child Too big for me, Strange how it breaks apart.

And see yourself For a few breathing seconds There, I thought it was one.

Ready to I nearly saw it fly Away with blossoms. Stay But no flowers, My Mama. Not a petal.

Instead,

It hard-hits and bounces,

Slamming the ground with noise.

And only later,

Softly,

When all is quiet

Do two birds fly away

On different

Sunsets.

Ask Me Dependency 1/92 1/92

Who knows? And then there was sky.

My mind flies. Blue-deep for miles up and around. Shooting through thinness, It goes up and down Then floating down. To soaring winds. Down, til blue It fuzzies and lightens. Collapsed on blue,

It draws me into And burst to the A world of magic Song of flying. Where nothing stands still, And then the grass. Not even memories. Marching legions of green, Swaying up to the All blotches, Drumbeat of fighting And changes, Growth,

And flows down rivers. Until sky can’t be seen,

Come, ask me my mind. The in’s and out’s of Twisting blades, That push and call For the light of the sky.

Then deep.

Down to grumbling darkness, My Distance That crawls and slides. 1/92

Over it spits, Hello Distance. Then dives Aching pain of miles away, To falling. I’ve seen you before.

The red oozes up, You push me far, And growls at the roots, Until miles mean Memories, That hand and tremble-sing A marching song And the past is only To the swaying green. Fairytales

I cannot reach.

You trap my now With longings.

I squirm and hide To the Real.

But now,

Let me feel

That before me stands

Still

A new land to walk my distance.

The Moon 1/92

I saw you tonight. You who watches from the depths. Who shares your blurry face with millions Who don’t understand.

I saw you. Not just your face but your arms. They pour down in millions, Spill like milk until your face reaches mine.

And then my hands are yours. White and bright enough to reach with the sun on my back.

So that I knelt down in humble worship Of that light that was you and now me. Rising, I saw.

Not just hands and arms, But my face, Blurred with the bright that only you understand.

In the depths you look up To smile at the Shine that is mine.

Grieving My Mother My birds followed close. 2/93 The millions searched in When I left you Screeching, A million birds flew From the depths of me. Until you were gone, And I, They flew in soaring freedom, Alone, Shadows on the sea. Nested and clipped Waters and valleys, Searching to be found. Cry for their return.

I stood with arms outstretched. My wings Are harshly felt. A million birds shooting down.

I remember the pierce; Crucified, smiling.

My heart beat with the Wings of millions,

And I flew.

No one knew No one saw, No one heard.

The wings. Mother, when you left me

Butterfly Hands 8/3/93 The sun changes colors, Kaleidoscopes sound. In one brief week my past dissolves. And so my mind wheels. All memories fade, In one brief week, They fall. My heart only feels.

Occasionally I glance behind, I shudder to think Disinterested. That logic is gone.

But pictures are blurred, My mind battles on. And twirled. It pounds the word “time”. They grab or stare, It whispers of pain, I don’t even care. Of history,

My memories Climbs. Don’t remember me. Reminds me of hurt, And looking ahead, Of words fallen still. My future spins round. I shudder to think It crackles and spits, My heart only feels. To shake the ground. But time passes slow. A mountain from a valley, River from land. I whirlwind alone.

Levels With days slipping down, 8/93 And past pushed below. I climb you. Dizzied, I stand, You with your fiery eyes And wish for your hand. And glass-cased sun.

You standing still, I climb you, While earth spins around. Until earth scorched feet And desert tongue. You speak of tomorrow, You future my now. Until stairs twist me high Until darkness I run. With you, staring past Until moon pierces sky. Is pulled to command. I climb you. I come. I hold it as water In butterfly hands. I come to the levels. The lines. Alone, all is blurry— Cold floor.

The colors, the sounds. To slash open heart, To open your door. Hold me ‘til morning, The earth spins around. And when the knob turns, When climbing is done,

I kiss you to see Your eyes and the sun.

Living Word Banalities 7/93 7/29/93

No rhymes left, I walk with the millions-- Not even melody. Pretty-pink lady, I can’t decide on poetry. Baseball boy, My pen spins far. Policeman man. It inks the page To slip and swirl I walk with their pets, The dungeon cage. Their dogs, Their lambs. And words twist round In doodled rage— I walk with their shoes, their feet, their hands. The click of teeth,

The screeching sounds, Shuffle, walk, shuffle the plans. Of crashing glass

And covered fire, The steel-ticking clock, Of splitting sky The newspaper man. Mind asking “Why?”

Shuffle my screams, So rhythms fall Time-card the blows. To buzzing hues

Blow away dreams— Of vicious reds Walking, I know. And empty blues.

I know of their smile As sizzling words begin to grow. The big, juicy red.

Circus man holds me, I drop my pen to overflow. Pigeons my head.

I know those are tears Church The tinsel-tied drops. 8/29/93

They burn when they land, Let me scream my way to you. They land in my lap. Would you understand then?

And marching, we walk. If I broke down the pew, The briefcase, the shoes. To stare, unbowed head,

I want this to stop. For once, eye to eye.

I stomp on the fuse. You standing so high, The sun burns my back That miles are the ocean With sunflower hues. And I am the sky.

We fly; Not together, Not so free,

But blown by the winds And tears of the sea.

The tears pound my face, and quiet my walls.

Benches and rows, you don’t hear my call.

As choirs drone songs and preachers tell news

I break heaven’s throng and scream my way Courtship to you. 2/7/93

I watch the wheel

In the roll of this car,

Spinning my choices,

Blowing them far.

I hear you speak of

Shadowed love

And moons and dreams

And sacred doves.

I slip—

Your chance to hold my hand,

Drunken I walk at your command.

Cold and crisp, we play the game

Of chocolates, flowers and baby names.

And so it fits, the rhyme, the song.

Puzzled, I let it

Slide along.

Before My Sister’s Wedding To burst the clouds with singing. 8/14/93 Sister, sleep sound. Sister, hold my hand. Soar stars through the night. Give me a chance to Embrace you. The sun dips around and rises to

Before winds sweep the land Bring you And toss the The morning. Earth with flowers.

Sister, walk with me. Let my step share yours.

So your flight may be free.

Married Years 1993 to 2009

Falling Missing 2/4/93 8/25/93

Careful of this heart. I miss you tonight.

It beats my chest, I’ll see you tomorrow but Screaming the song Of caged birds. I miss you tonight. I miss your hand in mine Careful. Your touch Your eyes. With each touch you Dig its claws. I miss the hours it takes To say goodbye. Piercing eagle eyes towards Thoughts of freedom. Packing bags, Filing away— And as my heart scrapes, It waits for melting. I miss you, and think of Days on days Careful of these chains. Of missing.

With one kiss they Crawl to my soaring soul.

And this bird flies.

Careful. I catch its tail And scream the song of falling.

Water-Words And you pour the sand. 9/3/93 My words to explain My words pour like rain. Your ocean, my land. They drip into a pool of you, My words are like dew; And I forget where they came from, They sparkle the sun. Or why. I watch them in you But they’re mine. Until heart overcomes.

My words sink as sand. In silence they melt the morning. They dive into eyes of blue, Until I stare at the My words are too small Float and free. For But it’s me. I love you. My words mirror-shine, They splash windows through. My face in the water, My face becomes you.

I’m twirling my words, They dance at your pool.

They rise, make me stand. They fall in your hand.

My hands fill with rain,

Wedding Day You look my way 9/13/94 And break the disguise.

Before you were born, I recognize the I wanted you. Smile in your eyes.

Before day shrank to night, This day we are born And wind blew the sun. With moon over night. I looked for your eyes, I waited to come. This day we are born To the sun and the light. The hours of rain on The windowpane. This holy place with God above— Before you were born, The days of flowers, I fell in love. Laughing away.

I cartwheeled, I ran, I wanted to fly.

To your mingled voice In my lullabies.

Your voice and mine to The pounding rain.

The smell of a flower, The sound of your name.

Roads Racing 2/19/95 2/19/95

There was a time when I don’t want to race you— All roads were one, To drive my heels in this sunken ground, And my road went Waiting for a shot to sound. Up and on so smoothly I don’t want to chase— As if it had already Been marched by millions. To force your speed and mine. Breaking my breath in a race I would stand at the beginning For time. And laugh at the trees. My racetrack has holes I would stand and sing So deep and wide With the birds. That I can’t reach Light feet in the sunlight. The other side.

But now— I don’t want to fall. I don’t want to fight. So many roads, And mine so rough. Quick path, smooth flight, I stand at the beginning— Feet frozen, Until my legs are strong Hands cold. And I’m back in my light.

And listen to the voices of millions, Calling me to come.

Shady Silence 10/16/96 Wondering what I’d say If all the bobbing heads What silenced me? Swayed towards me Snipped the branches of my hands; And chirped to attention. Slid down my arms To pinch the words; Would a twig crack under the weight of So that they fell, like leaves, Their heavy claws? To the barren land? I’d drip a reply—squeezed from the sap Was it you, dear companion, Of my parched tongue. Rooted with me in this Furtive land Something about “what if” and “why”. To grow forever higher? Nothing to do with the tree-trunk man Twisted trunk and Sitting next to me. Tendril vines Play for the light I’m afraid to see the myriad birds Of the fire. Fly from this tree.

But lately your leaves So I silence me. Have covered my sun. I wedge my face in your steady talk.

I forget whose grip is tighter. My words a muffle in your thick bark.

What is it that stops my mouth Serpentine spiral So I stand ashamed? Around your trunk.

Wondering if my hands move I wonder where the The way they did when I was strong? Ax has sunk.

Cutting Wood Stitching up, To Malian Women Needle stabbed, 6/97 Wrapping foot with bloody rag.

Every woman had done it. The silent scream that burns her lips, Every woman here— Scars through toes and fingertips.

Swinging hands, Flip-flopped, Baby wrapped in a Cotton cloth.

Has lifted her ax to the sun, And slammed down steel.

It’s hard to feel—

Bundled sticks, Head tired, Dragging logs for the Cooking fire.

The slipping blade passes the wood Splinters the foot, comes up blood.

Little girl’s like her mother now. Gaping wound opens slow.

Every woman no one knows—

Birthday For Calvin’s Tree 5/30/00 5/30/00 To Calvin What a tiny seedling! The day you were born, I’ve never seen anything so still, so small.

The sun rose in its I’m not sure what you are, Brilliance or where you came from. And all the birds started to sing. But when your eyes open and look at me

I melt. The day you were born—

Whales jumped into the air As if a thousand wings rushed past me And sprayed the seas with blue. And whispered a message from some divine

place. Flowers opened and blinked

Their purple and yellow hues. And when you leave,

Even for a second, The day you were born— I long for your touch,

Your smell, A squirrel flew through trees

Calling your name. Like something from a different land—

A peaceful place. And the moon rose and the stars shone

And the whole world sang out to greet you. There’s no tag anywhere to Say who you are, And I’m not sure what you came Here to do.

But I will fight all life

Again for this My Daughter One moment To Phoebe Of you and me 3/12/06

And When she wakes up She calls out My name God standing closely by. And I run to her bedside

And pick her up.

Favorite part of my day.

She’s so warm.

I sit down

And hold her

Against my chest.

I wish I could be

In that embrace

Forever.

Snow Storm 3/12/06 There are things happening In this room— It’s snowy. Flurries and snowbanks. A Noreaster is coming— Scheduled to arrive I close my eyes, At 2pm today. Then look out the window.

It did. Snow.

“I’d better go,” He kisses me. I don’t get up— I said, even though Keep watching the flakes coming down. I didn’t want to. His car crunches out of the driveway. It didn’t seem real—tiny flecks of snow Wouldn’t amount to much. Hums away.

And I drove and drove home.

And he said hello and goodbye— Had to catch an early flight Before the storm.

Suitcase and clothes And hangers

Scattered everywhere.

The landscape changing—

I could hardly reach my bed.

Helping at a Birthday Party You don’t know me, 3/12/06 And I wish it could You don’t know about me. All be there You don’t know, In my hand like some toy And I would rather die For the boy Than tell you that On his birthday Like a real thing Something hurts Held in my hand. Behind the quick hands Serving carrots and juice to the Coming along with Five-year old’s at the birthday party, The rest of the bags And coats and shoes And changing the baby’s diapers I’m carrying. And leading the whole Damn bunch in song. After driving for hours To be here. It’s all wrong To see him open all his gifts One by one. How I smile And hold up the day. Opening like flowers crunching petals All over the floor. Busying here and there You don’t know Like I’m the hostess and That there’s more, This is my house And I’ll take care of you, There’s so much more. All of you, Care of you.

The Day After Valentine’s Day It’s all wrong—nothing can be right, 3/16/06 I struggle and fight, So you can’t hold me It’s the day after Valentine’s Day, And you can’t know all that stuff. And I’m taking note of things, Like the nature of my heart, That would only be a burden to you, And you. And we go to bed confused by each other. It’s true, How my tears always turn into pulling straws That I hold back sometimes. And not knowing how to look Tip-toe around the mysterious you, Each other in the eye. All those things that you do,

I’d rather cry alone. Don’t want to be disturbed, You know it’s true, Don’t really believe you’re disturb-able. I hold back sometimes,

Don’t want to burden you. It makes it easier that way.

What would it take to give my heart to you? You and your needs and you,

And me with the rest of me.

That part of me you don’t know—

That part I figure I’ll take to my grave,

Or to the highest mountain once a year,

Or to the sea—where my Mom was buried,

Or to tears late at night when you can’t hear.

And when you do hear,

God’s Love I had found the whole. 3/17/06 One step, one little step to defy The strangest thing happened recently. The years of agony. I was talking to God and He Asked me to step closer to Him. When I didn’t believe in love And I realized I couldn’t. Or why anyone would get up I didn’t know, At night to hold me when I cried, I didn’t trust. Or why God would not see me as a big disappointment, I didn’t believe He loved me enough. Or why I was constantly messing up.

And we pulled and tugged at each other. One step—to believe He loves me. I didn’t have a choice.

It was right here, right now—I couldn’t put it off, Closed the hole, Though I wanted to. Broke the fall, Rounded the bend of my heart. But all I heard was “Now” And “It is time.” And all I could think was how round And the question was— It was. How full it was. Can I step closer? How I’d never felt so light--

So I let go, for just a moment. Like the day you come home from the dentist I took the jump, And feel all the teeth with your tongue, Like I was falling towards love. So smooth and new.

And my heart started to burn. Who knew I could feel it mending—like a bent What He could do? Bicycle wheel fixed and round--

Fall in Love Again Two children who look like us. 3/16/06 What if right now we sat down And turned our hearts over What if you and I fell in love again? To you and me. What would it be like? Not more time and more nagging,

Not the falling of that fortnight But more of me—so my heart When you and I hardly knew Didn’t slam shut at some What we were or why Point between Michigan Just that we couldn’t stay away And Berkeley And our hands locked And I didn’t decide And we stared into each other’s Not to cry in front of you, Eyes like we had found home. And I didn’t determine there What if we started again? Was a huge gulf between you and me, Like new things, Man and Woman, The way we are now? Husband and Wife The way we’ve both seen Of many years. The exact same movies For years and years What if all my fears And I know the contour And these years Of your hand like it was my own Of ice we set aside. And you fit to the mold Of my back when I sleep. Turned and looked and told the truth And stood tall for who we are now. How all our pictures are Full of each other, In the middle of our lives. And how we would both die for those You are you and I am I.

We Go Way Back You knew how, and why. 3/16/06 And those little bright moments fill my mind.

Like the sun on my back You and me, we go way back. When we watched the pipeline, Like the time you stood beside me Or how our hearts burn with pride In the hospital and held my Watching our daughter sing Hand, and gave me ice chips Or Sunday mornings in bed, And touched my cheek The little ones snuggled between us. When I thought I would die

I couldn’t breath and I didn’t know why You know those times too. This little baby was being handed to me, We go way back, you and me. Or where I was. But I knew, When I’m a hundred years old, and you’re a Because we go way back. hundred and two,

I’m going to reach my hand for you, Like when I saw that snake on the floor in And in your eyes it will all be there Mali These little moments we share. And you chopped it into three pieces while I stood Frozen in the room, because snakes make You and me, we go way back. me freeze.

Or when we rode our bikes to the highest waterfalls

And ate mangoes in the sun

Or when I got into graduate school,

And when my water broke,

And when I got sick,

And when I cried,

And when I had forgotten to eat that day,

Or when my Grandmother died.

Missing Africa Stop this longing for something far away— 5/17 Another land I can’t be there. Hot sand Colors blinding with bright, I’m not there. It doesn’t matter—it’s only air. And the earth coming up to kiss me Like a lover. Untouchable. Air. It’s over. I breath in and out at the windowpane. The dishwasher hums, Watch it go. Let it go.

Pray for the banalities to come back to me. Wrapped in the hum of the dishwasher Like a bathrobe.

Calm my heart, calm.

Single Years 2009 to 2011

Holes (it worked for you) 6/09 Mad that it never really filled those holes Mad that your idea of what worked left me so We held each other in. Cold and alone.

You standing over my brokenness like a fortress. I limped along like that. And when you left Wrapping yourself around and into All my parts were exposed, All my missing parts so it looked and felt like wholeness. Like lifting up a rock in a riverbank

And seeing all the You were all the parts I didn’t have-- Wriggling things.

Motherless child, All my holes and aches shining for Who could go for days Everyone to see. Without eating

Or finding the time Motherless child. To treat myself. And now,

Without you. You filled my absence with you— Sand slowly pouring

Like a million grains, My joy in life with things Hourglass falling. You like to do.

The holes, You filled my motherless child For the first time, With fast food, Costco and Netflix, Ever so slowly,

Filling with Mad that it never worked— Me.

Woman in Flight In the weight of the car, 12/09 Hitched up Barrelling out of the driveway This is not a feeling a man would know. At three in the morning. This standing in front of the closet. Hands shaking, No man has a clue— Counting out the number of shoes, the pair of socks, To be completely alone, And how many shirts could possibly fit Abandoned at the wheel. Along with a computer and Babies crying Three children For more milk And maybe a bed? And no one to feed them but you.

In a family car No man— To be packed up now

Immediately. Because he is the one Three hours left now You flee from. Everything owned and loved to

Abandon The pompous entitlement And flee in the dead of the night. Of him.

No man knows how this feels. Killing you softly with his song.

Until we have no songs left Watching your back And all that remains is shaking numbness Counting up money in the pantry As we drive out into the To get ready to go. Broken road.

Holding the weight of the world,

All the false promises and betrayals

And late-night arguments

Frozen Fields Mourning these Twenty Years 9/09 9/09

We’ll take the spoils of war and divide The loss of you was so greatly felt. them.

It burns a hole, One couch for you, Like a small match My T.V., Igniting a white sheet. The little picture you

Took at Union Square when Starting in the middle, Our daughter was two. Spreading to my heart

That darkens and burns Piles in the middle of a frozen field, The size of a galaxy expanding. Ice cold geysers.

And all I can see is the blackness of it. Where our laughter

And your touch And the movement, And hopes and dreams Bigger and bigger, Used to be, The abyss.

Used to be green— For all the trite people at your funeral

Eating casseroles I thought, And laughing like this wouldn’t I thought it was beautiful. Leave a scar.

Maybe I was wrong. For all those people

You didn’t even know Maybe it was all wrong. Who were there to fill the room.

Distant relatives remembering a girl It is not peace. Who came to their house once It is not the Healing Power. For a family reunion, It is not And giving speeches about your curly Whatever you slapped me Ten-year old hair On the back about as you left. And how you have a nice smile. Twenty years later and For all of them The loss of you is so strongly felt. Proud that this would be so easy, The galaxy of a black hole That a woman buried Has swept around my every day. Far from her homeland, Murdered by a stranger My life, my home. She called her friend, I didn’t even notice it until Would not leave a hole. I sat down today And started to cry. Remembering as they filled Themselves on peanuts Your absence bigger than the Universe. How easy it was to Have a closed casket I watch the stars at night And no sight And think of you. Again of the woman. Wheeling around me, For all of them— Like some gravitational pull I cannot stop circling. It is not.

It is not easy.

Bamana Mother I wander in like I’m a stranger here, like it means nothing more to me than the Van 6/10 Gogh Exhibit upstairs, or the strange broken head I take you in, of the Medusa statue, Stunned at your presence in wood and shine. Half broken with time but still angry.

I hadn’t expected to see you. I walk into Africa a stranger. But everything I see whispers of home, far away. Years since I left the motherland of Africa— Something I once was. Where I held the hand of my husband so tightly And those ridiculous signs and plaques explaining mud-cloths and headwraps I never could imagine losing it. As if no one knows,

As if they have never smelled And, years later, so much older, and tired, so tired, The earth cooling the air at sunset I come to New York City. Or babies sleeping on mother’s backs. Tripping through this museum as if I have just And I stop reading the signs and find myself Been through a war. standing in front of you, That hand I once held now slipped from me Bamana Mother. like a bottle rocket. Blasted off into some other kingdom. Statue as big as me— And I stumble through the museum with Taking in the world, staring at me from your part of me missing and bleeding from the wooden being. loss.

You stand like a soldier, (That hand will never be his again, and maybe never was, as it turns out.) Holding a knife in your hand And a sword over your shoulder. I turn into the Africa Room, two steps from Modern Art and five from Europe. You protect.

Breasts larger than life, Come Together Berlin A baby looking like it belongs forever on 7/14/09 your belly.

Holding on as if nothing—not even broken hearts— When I stand next to you I zoom past twenty years to when Could ever displace it. We first stood next to each other.

You stand there proud and powerful. Both of us along for the ride in some school trip in Berlin, Germany

And I nod. Where everything seemed eerie and This is the Mother I need to be. mysterious, This is the Mother Africa Mostly gray and a little scary. That calls me Home. ‘My first time away from home with kids I didn’t even know. Running up and down the haunted ruins of the Nazis and military rifles

And walls dividing cities and world atrocities Like we owned the whole place, or were walking through the shards of an adandoned city.

It was the wrong place to meet.

We had no place there with the dark military suits or the fear of taking the wrong train To East Berlin. We were too young to know and most of the kids there fell away at the first sign of

tragedy.

Only the strong survived.

It took a few days for you and me to emerge All those twenty years of weariness take me out of the rubble of Berlin, back The only two left holding the bag, To Berlin and that same eternal question of inexpertly, of all the horrors that were what to do about it. inside.

Our skin was taut with youth, not a wrinkle- - And that same abandoned city, war torn And we had fresh haircuts and smooth hands With me screaming at is with youthful eyes and flat stomachs. and mouths “Come together Berlin”. We had just turned sixteen and it seemed And me here. wrong how young and short and babyish Somehow strengthened by how familiar it is they said we looked, To stand next to you.

That we should understand, somehow, and know a thing or two about tragedy, Twenty-year war-torn companion, And make a ridiculous mural on the Berlin Explorer of cities. Wall as a 16-year old protest movement.

When I stand next to you all the weariness of the prime of life, the middle of the center,

Of having babies

And feeding hungry mouths and

Checking for ticks

And temperatures

And kinks in the neck

And failing eyesight

And bad haircuts

And wrinkles

And bulging stomachs

Laundromat At any second and sent everything over. 12/16/09 Ended the magic in one second’s time. I left my drink on the washing machine In the laundromat But it didn’t spill. While you were laying out each sock It didn’t. Not tonight. Like a tower All the quiet and silent and Clorox white. And shaking out the wrinkles in your sheet And my drink stayed put, As if the army was coming to inspect you. A loaded weapon.

And your brow furrowed with I forgot about it anyway The seriousness of your creations. When we left quietly Piles of perfectly folded perfection, With the perfectly folded creases Whites and darks And clean all around us. And this goes here and don’t put that there.

And the smell of crisp cleanliness.

I watch you wondering at how beautiful You are to make laundry Into art and the smell of clean into passion. And where do I fit in to this creation of clean?

My drink could have fallen, pouring over

All the bleached majesties.

I could have destroyed it all.

I, not clean, not perfect, not used

To all the piles, could have spilled

Green Eyes Broken Love 5/25/10 5/25/10

The picture I love best The more I cry about him, When I close my eyes and think of you The more I see you. Is staring deep into your eyes. My tears pour out Of me like rain. Your freckled face. Your wild green eyes And open my eyes to the Burning into me. Fact that I love you And no one else. They shouldn’t be green. It makes no sense. And I can finally see They should be brown like Your arm, and hand, and smile. The Ecuadorian sands, Not green like where I come from. And wish you were mine again, Like the Isle of Man, Not that you can be. Like the Song of Wales. Not that anything is ever possible For someone like me. But when I look at you Your eyes melt into my country. Not that the hope of happiness Green like the summer dells. Will ever come to me.

And the more I stare But the more I cry I see an impish The more you stand before me Celtic soul laughing And I wish I could make sense of all the broken hearts Back at me Of two people who love each other so much. Standing in a tree, calling for me to come.

Football Little Sammy 5/25/10 5/25/10

I watched you playing football Today is the birthday of my third son In the park Sammy With my son and daughter. He is two years old today, You said you didn’t want to come You felt awkward He lies silently sleeping Since you were no longer mine. In my room.

But it was Calvin’s birthday, and so you The covers over his little body came, His shoulder rising and falling hugging him, and making Phoebe laugh Like ocean waves. And face-painting Sammy as a clown.

I can’t look at him And I watched you in the park and looked up at the Too closely or I will cry Trees around you and the sky And thought that I want this. So I scurry around This is exactly what I want. The house rearranging This magic moment of a new family The cabinets and Rising and stretching Sorting through And finding joy. Batteries.

I want this. I am afraid that if I stop For just a moment to look at him Right at the moment Of throwing it My heart will burn too much. All away. This little boy— So fierce and

Vibrant and burning red hair. And the house was quiet with my other children

Gone to visit their father His beginnings were months and months And sadness all around Of tears and heartache too

Wrenching. He stayed home with me.

Tiny infant. I’m surprised the baby in me

Did not leap out of my belly Little Sammy, From too much sadness. Little boy who has seen

His mother’s sadness I couldn’t stop crying. More than anyone else.

And he grew bigger and bigger Little Sammy And leaped in me with joy With your smile and your kick When my joy was gone And your defiance.

And I cried to the moon What a hard two years it has been. On winter nights What a strange way to be born! To save me from the pain.

Let me hold you now But he stayed there. And touch your face Growing and jumping And put aside my tears And laughing inside me

So I can see you grow, my little Sammy. Wanting to live,

Wanting to touch the face of this mother.

My little Sammy born in May.

All that year when he was so little

Solitude Emergence 6/25/10 6/16/10

This is what I tried to avoid. I have been lingering On the outskirts of living. With all the relationships And moving of furniture Hiding myself And trips to the store Like a snail To buy black beans, kidney beans In the inner ooze And peanut butter. Of non-being.

This is what I desperately tried to avoid Not wanting to be. But now there is nothing more to do I have not seen me. And the nights are so quiet And no relationship is left in my horizon Taken no pictures. No one to make me laugh Read no newspapers.

And talk about Closed my ears and eyes to the Anything but Growing breathing This this I am trying to avoid. World around me.

Which is this moment of Time has passed without me. Nothing and silence. Now I stand—emerged. And having to face Myself and this sad and Shocked that it is 2010, Broken heart. And my children’s hair Has grown so long,

And my son’s voice is deepening,

And life kept going all these years. Detached 6/10 The hair I brushed The children I bathed The great coming together of all my attachments. For two years unknowing

The people who owned me, in one way or That they were eating another. And growing and living

In front of me. The couple friends,

The ex-boyfriend, Now I emerge. The ex-husband,

The woman who took me in, Shocked at the glare of The best friend. The bright light

Of the day. All coming together on my lawn.

To fight the final battle,

The end of the war,

The baptism of my son.

It had begun years ago, Leaning on this one or that, Opening my heart in one way or another.

And there they all stood, Eating ice cream and cucumbers And talking about baseball.

I mingled amongst them Passing brownies until the last chip was eaten.

They all wandered home, A Moment Well-fed and wondering— 6/10

And with the last hitch on the last car doors This moment is for me and me alone. Driving off and away No one else to share it, To smile or delight at the sight. Something clicked inside me, and I was Just me watching, heartfelt. done.

My little baby runs into the lake to All the attachments, blasted off and out of my life, See his brother and sister, Calling their names. Like a knife dividing. I was no longer under the The first words he knows, Weight of it. Hugging them in a baby’s embrace. Alone. Detached. Just a normal day on the beach. Solitude descending like a blanket. And no one ever with me. Okay to have them gone, Who will even call this a triumph— One by one. Their advice drifting away, That this little boy loves Floating in the air with the passing wind. His family so much and has Somehow Okay to hear it go, To drift them off. come to know He belongs. Detached for the first time, ever.

Enclosed Fences Blasted Away 6/10 6/13/10

Sammy likes to stand The moment you all came together Just outside the gated area of the kiddy pool. Is when I blasted you away.

He found a way to get out, All the men in my life. And for all the effort to enclose him Standing on the lawn With their entourage. He found an escape. My boyfriend and his family, He can come and go as he pleases. Speaking Spanish and eating salsa,

He can stand, free and unenclosed My ex-husband’s people, Outside the gate, Circling the swing set and Or come in if he wants. Wanting to know why and how.

That’s how Sammy is. The emergence of rippled influences.

Watch him—independent soul. A person you love, bringing everyone into your life,

And all that entails. As long as it is his idea,

And he knows he is free, Boyfriend, Ex-husband. Mingling as if this

was all normal. He will stand next to me

And hold my hand. The minute it happened was the moment of the end.

Boyfriend blasted away to ex-land the next day.

A Long Line of Women And the ex staying in ex-land where he 7/25/10 belongs.

I come from a long line of women who And all the amputated family members drifting away Died in their houses. With their casserole dishes and well wishes. Their houses becoming their own The party to end it all. Crazy, tick-tock power.

The party to bid farewell Breathing in and out like a living thing. To Grandma and Aunts and people involved In these men in my life. Cats growing in their closets like a heart Pumping its rhythm. The party to close the door at the end of the day, Virginal down syndrome Aunts Collect the dirty dishes, Tearing off their clothes and stomping down Clear off the table, halls. Shake off the tablecloth, And say good-bye. I’ve tried to sleep in these homes And never could.

Nightmares of hauntings.

Dead husbands still mourned in the office down the hall. The virginal Aunt humming.

Grandma Lulu calling me to heal her wound, The aching menace of her knee, Always broken,

Never healed Dead in my house After years and years. And only the dogs to sniff at me Three weeks later when I’m on all the headline news. Calling me like her minion And everyone wants to know, To heal the throbbing Not that they want to know now. Aching wounds

One by one. Not that they want to know that my heart is

Full to breaking. The heart, the knee, the life.

Broken, never healed. Nor will it ever heal.

And the house creaked and sighed And my home is taking on that smell With all the sadness. Of my long line of those women

Who die in their houses. Pushing it down until Mother and Grandmother Closed their eyes and died sleeping in its That smell of not being able to keep up. sagging arms. Not being able to fight the reality of decay

And mold and sticky rotting “I come from a long line of women

Who die in their houses.” That all good housekeeping overrides with

Bleach and brooms and the hope of I think, as I slip on the stairway Tomorrow. Going down the basement,

But I smell that smell, And I imagine that just one false move And I know who my people are, Would end it. And I walk in the dripping sticky air of the Just one slip, house, And I would be lying alone And that one small step that could end me. In the lonely world.

And this depth of a heart-break that will East Brunswick never heal. 6/17/10

And I wait for my turn in my long line of turns. I had to move sixty miles away to make Anything worth it.

I had to fight this long commute And ask for less money in court and Beg and plead and wage war with the world

To wake myself up from the too easy Prison I was living in.

The haunted beauty of wealth Gone sour. Of souls lost In bright suburbia With no promises left for me.

I was dying in my year and a half of sad.

Sad comfort, and horrible ease. And now everything I do is a struggle,

But at least now I am finally awake And wanting it all.

My Daughter Your being 6/18/10 A strong and solid thing.

I will never forget this picture of you, A thing I want to Stand next to—to hold, My daughter, pride of my eyes, To learn about. Working on some Artful masterpiece You know nothing At the park sidewalk. Of your power.

Chalk in hand, The sun sets, Hunched over And the rabbits shift, in deep concentration. And you look up. The sun setting. Light brightening your hair. You think you are Just a little girl like And the park rabbits coming out All the others. To jump in the living grass. You don’t know what your Everything in the moment, Mother can see In you. And you, so still. A sacred thing.

Your world glowing all around you.

Your peace pushing colors Out of your heart.

Virginia Grace Sides have been drawn. 6/18/10 And my little Nymph I pulled out my make-up case today Who likes small, quiet secrets And opened it up And playing with make-up To find it completely smeared. Will have to learn to open this up, Eye shadows mixed with lipsticks. Move this here, Lipsticks smudging mirrors. Put the red on the blue, Disturb the order, Mirrors holding secrets Break the hue. Of the little nymph who came here While I was out of the room She will learn and And mixed everything up. She knows and Her little finger I know who did it. Will find a way through. I know the little girl whose Hands shake in delight When she finds secret, quiet Things to open and pour out and explore.

My little Niece.

My heart grieves for her. Officially today her life will turn upside down. Officially today—if the family news is true— Bombs have been launched, War has been waged,

Love’s Body to Hold On a few strands. 6/18/10 This led to a big blonde streak Poor Phoebe, Down Phoebe’s hair, My six-year old daughter. That has stayed and stayed these two years. She wears the mark of tragedy. No amount of haircuts or conditioners Can get it out. When the world came crashing down And our family split apart Only the slow tick-tock of time. Like a cracked egg— As hair grows and mends Broken shells and yolk And sorts itself out. All over the kitchen floor. My brunet and blonde Phoebe— I cut my hair. Brown half-way down, The only thing I could do. Blonde at the end. My last defense. The beginning of my monastic The tragedy you carry, Mourning. Love’s body to hold. The inner scream coming out On top of my head.

Hair changing colors Every day to fit my mood.

One day she passed by and wanted Some dye too.

Just a little,

Online Dating Or if you have the right 6/18/10 To take his hand That you thought may belong When you are about to meet someone To you but you are not sure You’ve pined over for weeks. And it could all mean nothing or Absolutely everything. When you are about to meet The person you’ve Or you could wake up with all of it Stayed up with on the phone Lost and gone and the ache again of goodbye. Telling stories and secrets.

When you are about to try Your uprising and your down-sitting. At this awkward social experiment Living and breathing, Without a clue of what The sound of the phone ringing for you. You are doing

And laughing at yourself Listening to the voice on the other end At how ridiculous it all is— And wondering if it belongs to you,

Or someone else, If you are about to do this— Or is it nothing at all?

But you assume it is something? Then it is best to wear

A seatbelt. You assume until faltering steps

Bring you to the point of meeting.

And when you are about to meet the person

On a crowded day in New York City,

In a dark movie theater,

Not knowing if he is the one

On the left or the right

Flat Tire Middle of the Night 6/13/10 6/13/10

You were heart-broken last weekend. In the middle of the night The baby screams at me, You said I had changed you out Like a flat tire. The heartache of a lost love.

And then, oddly enough, Attachment to his desire, His comfort, I got a flat tire this week. His bottle of milk—

And you changed it for me, Gone, suddenly, At your shop. Because I had decided it was time. You took it off And tossed it out He was old enough. This bottle has to go— And added a new one Without a second’s thought. And so— His beloved is missing.

Dark and horrible nights When I watch his Torment of a broken heart.

Just at the time that my Heart breaks feel doubled—

And he stays, Boyfriend gone, Broken-hearted, And all alone and Because everything Hurting inside— He needs is not Just so. Until at 2am With my baby, So, Pining for his love We stare at each other.

And nothing I can do Middle of the night, To comfort him. Silence.

Offering him sippy cups of milk As we both (but not his bottle), Contemplate he throws it all back The brokenness At me. Of things.

Milk dripping everywhere. My outstretched arms Help for nothing. Milk pouring out all over the floor.

He needs it to be A certain way or Nothing at all.

He needs to touch my shirt, And drink a bottle full of cold milk. This is what he needs.

Significance Zion National Park 6/6/10 6/10

All these things are significant. The red rocks stand immense Beside your salmon skin. The shifting of the wind The shape of your hand, And I wish I could walk up you The way you smile. Like a rock climber. They groove-mark the stone Finding one small groove Turned over by water, In your body To suspend my However the water happens to be at the Weight upon. time.

The small drip-drop of rain, But every time I reach for you-- Or the roaring of the sea. You crack. Nothing can be more or less than this.

Tiny pebbles avalanche, All things are significant. Pouring into my hand. Like how you are standing by a tree,

Or the sound of your voice, Til I can’t even stand, Or how you speak over Let alone climb. A crackled phone over too Stone I thought was solid-- Many crackled miles away. Red-burned by the sun,

Kissed by the wind, It doesn’t say anywhere that this Hallowed by the land, Means nothing.

The hard-grooved stone Is only sand Turns under the Sifting through Weight of the wave, My hands. And smooths its edges night and day.

Tectonic Shift Hoboken Bridge 6/6/10 5/25/10

Five thousand miles from the If I died on that bridge I drove across Center of the Earth To get to that defiled city where The man I loved once Is no place to start a fire Lives with the Or wage a war New woman he loves now— Or schrapnel My face. If I died on that bridge with Though I know you No one to call to Want to. As the traffic spins me out of control Off the edge It is no place, Into the water. And you are no one Who knows anything about that. No one to call who would care. No one to say that How my hands would fall, Maybe the task And your face would turn Appointed to this woman Towards me, Is too much for her. And your mouth would smile. Maybe the driving across bridges It is no place for this, On long Sunday afternoons into oncoming and ongoing

Or angry and enraged New York City Or for the Tectonic shift drivers Or the way the light Into the whole megalith and Shines on your hair mass of humanity, Pushing into the throbbing city where Or the earthquake that A once lover lies with another Will ensue.

And allows the one he What is it that expects people Used to care about to To rise each morning with the Drive, Alone, Frightened, Broken-hearted Craving to survive Accidently off the bridge into the When all survival seems an impossibility? treacherous waters.

Maybe she just can’t do it, Maybe the world just can’t expect her When love to a beloved just died To be this strong, And the heart already broken, breaks again. When she still shakes

And is sometimes wary When she can’t find a job and no one calls Of each new day, her back. With a heart too broken to bear. And she can’t get anywhere on time Maybe it is just too much to ask of her. And love does not last.

And maybe the whole damn world didn’t Maybe it is all realize Just too much to That she just couldn’t do it. Bear,

Alone, This drive across the Hoboken Bridge. With no help, And no one to hold her hand.

Just like how maybe she can’t be a mother of three, Up until 3am with a crying baby And no one to say “Come back to bed, Sweetie” And no one to heal That heart that is too broken to go on.

Adam and Eve It was impossible to pull away after all that. 6/16/10 After the transformation.

“Lest I, Adam, Shaped and welded to be two, Am left alone in the garden.” Hard-wired to be empty without the other.

He couldn’t do it. Bones and ribs, yearning. No one asked him to either. So when, after all that, she told him he would be alone again, He couldn’t face being left alone. He couldn’t do it. He could do anything— He could not live without her. Even eat the apple— He could not forge himself all over again To avoid being alone. As a solitary being.

This woman, All hell and heaven and earth and fiery Crafted from the marrow serpents Of his bone, and hearts and joints, And angels and guarding trees and casting out of home The time he slept and God unraveled him, Melted him down to his primary materials, Could not keep him away from one who shared All over again. His rib,

His hands, Reconfigured, His heart. So He could make two.

Adam and Eve.

Make another one, So close to him that his very bones and ribs Yearned for her.

A Small Triumph Owned and marked 6/6/10 and helplessly chained.

You came to my office Just one more day in the courtroom. And told me that After four years you finally took But to those of us who knew— Your man to court And put him in jail. It was enough to make me shed a tear.

Four years of kicking your pregnant belly That one tiny ounce of justice and holding Triumphed today. Your face to the fire.

In the fourth year of all You finally expired Our four years.

His time in your life. His borrowed belief that he owned you.

That he could do that-- Could mark your mind and body With Zero.

He did not know That one day the mallet Would fall

And his foot on your brain Would no longer strain.

And he could be the one

Snow It’s all about the view 12/10 With you, And how fast you get there. If I could write a poem about you, Put it down right here, And if I could stand at the All the ins and outs of it. Very top It would all make some sort of sense. If it were possible to do this, Without the trees bending But I didn’t. Over the weight of the snow, Unnatural pose. Snow flattened the world, And the flurries stilled (You know I’m going to have to erase this.) And you and I Had nowhere to go. But if I could, After a while I’d write about the snow, You couldn’t even How it blew past my face See our footsteps, And I wanted to jump into it Just snow upon snow But I didn’t. To erase even the memory of

And all I could think about was Flight. Some mountain in Switzerland And all that snow.

And how I wanted to race Up the mountain—

Say Good Night To be like this? 12/10 But nothing more. We sat there No more, just this. Late into the night And I couldn’t believe I Let my long, snowed in heart Was sitting next to you. Take note and remember—

I had to keep looking up That falling snow is vibrant and bright, At your face And melts away over night. To make sure it was real. With you I will always That we could just talk Say goodnight. Like this until Everyone was asleep And the house Sighed in and out with dreaming.

Impossible.

Who brought this strange Moment to me?

That even the trees Outside would droop with snow And the birds snuggle into their nests And the children sleep silently upstairs As the snow fell down and down.

And you and I had two seconds

Negation Of your lips and 12/10 How you look at me.

I don’t know if this is good, Not for me. To pour out my thoughts This way. It doesn’t even matter What I look like today Better to ache them through Or how I am— The day. I will never flutter a heart, That way No one will ever see me And wish they could No one knows the clamoring, Touch the whisp of my hair, Clinging for something real Or love the way my mouth curves Or the way I walk. That I can’t feel. It doesn’t even matter This is not meant for me. What I wear today.

No quiet nights of Or how I pray Staring into eyes To make it through the hours— Like the ocean I will never, Or love, the reaching Ever be loved that way. For a hand

And going far beyond These words that Say nothing But the shape

Re-Remembering And I would never see you again. 2/8/11 It took us holding you in bouquets of flowers (After a woman jumped at the Women’s Program at Princeton House when she heard And calling your name over and over, a loud sound, and everyone wondered why she was nervous and upset.) Until someone convinced you that You turned into that little girl It was not here When they banged on the door. And those are not The stone cold eyes The shooting sounded like— How it used to sound. And you are not falling How they used to yell Into water upturned forever, When you were as small as they get Snapped back into the On the shores of the tiny village in France Rolling forth of time. Where people yelled and you flinched.

And I knew that it would happen Again to you.

If we weren’t careful. If we didn’t hold you long enough.

If the banging on the wall wouldn’t stop.

I knew you would turn into that little girl. And the waves would crash And the lightning strike And you would walk, Dazed, into the crashing water

I Can’t Look Back I Miss You 2/11 2/11 “I miss you.” I can’t look back. It took me a long time to You can’t make me. Get to these words. It will hurt too much if I turn my head. Something turned in me and I relaxed.

So I walk forward as if it doesn’t matter I wasn’t paying attention. And this didn’t happened. I breathed in and out.

I looked away for just a minute. And what does it matter

That twelve thousand birds And you stepped closer to my heart. Moved my heart. You got to that place of “I miss you”.

You reached the landmine of missing, of I fell hard for you. loss of love. And I can’t even talk You reached the place where pieces of my About that. heart Will stay with you when we part. Because why would it even matter. Where it hurts to leave. Why does anyone play this game of love Where I will jump to the sound of your When it turns around and hurts so bad? voice, Only because part of you holds my heart now. I won’t even look back. I refuse to treat it like it was anything. And we are attached. And I go through the morning routine It was nothing. Wondering where you are. We were nothing together. Where did my heart go?

Why would we be? I miss you.

It Was Nothing Don’t Go 2/11 2/11

Is this something people talk about? Don’t go—even when you are here. Is this something I can write down in words? Or would it just make me a fool? Even when I couldn’t stop calling Would it jinx it so it will never again be Even when I can’t even look back any more. mine?

Don’t go. Is this something people tend to erase? When I wrote all the poems about you To forget about as years pass? And you have pictures of me To deny it ever happened to them? And we share all the love songs that we It can’t really be held down. even know. And once I say it, it might go away. It hates being named. Don’t go—I can’t even look back. I can’t even think about who you are So I won’t And what we were. Name it. And how once not long ago it was rings and dreamhouses But I will claim it And never meeting anyone like you before. As mine—whatever it is.

Burning there in my heart. And lingering on the side of your smile. Glowing every part of my body.

I look at it with joy and fear and wondering. Don’t go—how you left and said it would

probably be awhile This thing I can’t name. Before you came back again.

And I didn’t know at the time that this would be the Last snapshot sight of you.

This moonlit night of you in your car Do No Go Gently And me running out to ask if you forgot 8/6/11 your I-pod,

“Do not go gently into that good night, And you saying I should keep it because …Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” you’d be back soon. --Dylan Thomas

Don’t go—because I think this was something. Do not go gently into that good night. Don’t go—because no I didn’t want my heart to break again. Do not go gently Because I already decided not to hurt like When you are waiting that again. At the D.M.V. on a Saturday morning But you said we would just not hurt each other and not to worry. And the mass of humanity And now— Stretches and yawns and shows Don’t go— Its underbelly.

I hold my heart in my hand The man who speaks Creole, Ripped out of your heart a week ago, And the nervous attendant who And I walk away stunned, Keeps shouting at him in English. Wondering how many— Do not go gently Don’t go— When the punk kid with a black bone earring Times— That pierces an enormous hole through his Don’t go— ear and Reaches down his shoulder, asks me to use my pen, My heart can break. Then forgets to return it,

And I look for him in Line 9 when I am in How some can smile at the child-- Line 2, Looking so cute in curls and dimples-- Waiting to go up to him and ask for it back. And others pass him by without

Noticing his light. Do not go gently into that good night

When the woman behind me has come Do not go gently into that good night, To change her name after a divorce, When there is no sign that we will be But she forgot her divorce papers. Leaving any time soon. And there is a man biting his nails, looking worried. Our Saturday—

Hard working laborers who are spending our And a man black as night sits silently, arms folded, One day off-- Holding power in the bright whites of his eyes. Here.

All together. Do not go gently Not moving. When arms and legs and hands holding babies Unable to avoid each other. Or books or cellphones Are all different shades and hues, Do no go gently when humanity Colors lined up next to each other Rises up and blesses. Like mountains of stone and rock from Do not go gently into that good night. Some far distant land. Rage, rage, for one more day like this. Do no go gently into that good night, When some people manage to muster up kindness, And other cannot.

Quiet August 8/4/11

For some reason God Has brought me here, To this moment, To this right now.

To this house with three children Filling up closets With different size shoes, And hair brushes, and drawings, and a cat.

And my hair in pink rollers, Because tomorrow will be another Long day and best to face it in curls.

For some reason God has brought me here, To this moment, When it’s hard to sleep because Its hot up here in my bedroom, And my little son is sleeping in my bed, And my heart is teetering on strain, Not sure if it can calm for the night.

And those crickets outside keep calling to me, That this is the moment God gave me, And sleep will come soon enough.

2011 to 2012

Just a Dream 6/11 Love surrounding me.

When you sat beside You cast a magic spell. My bed last night— You sent love That could move mountains It was just a dream, All the way A thought To my tiny bedroom.

But it felt real for a second. Just the sound of your Voice could do that. For a second you Were holding my hand. Wind coming in through The night air window, And your face Was close Through the trees To mine as I Bending outside Slept. Through the forests Descending. And you whispered To me that you Through the wide expanse. Love me. Through miles and Rivers and oceans. In so many words, In a million different Wind coming through Ways. My window.

Your words taking me to Some otherworldly brush The oceans and clouds. Against my face.

Some safety. Calm Seas Some presence. 6/11 Some incandescents. Somewhere between telling me Even though I slept To close my eyes and Quietly by myself, Talking to me sweetly In my ear. You were there, Pulling back my hair— Somewhere between putting my Head on my pillow Kissing me goodnight. So I could hear you speak Through the phone.

And you taking me to lands I’ve never been.

Telling me about stars moving Above me and you sitting beside me.

Somewhere between sitting close beside

The glow of the hushed bed

Where I slept.

I no longer having to say anything.

Relaxing from the weight of

Always having to move and act

And smile.

To just lie there and listen To your voice.

First Meet Somewhere between that and the 8/8/11 Summer breeze outside my window. When we first meet you will Somewhere I felt that you love Set down your bags in the airport and kiss Me— me. Deep in my heart— When we first meet after months of thinking about it Deeper, calmer seas— You will meet me at the shore while

Deep where things I gaze at the sea and whisper “I am here.” Lock and unlock, When we first meet we will be too nervous Where time stops To see at first, or we might stand by the baggage claim— And the gentle beating starts Looking at each other sideways.

Somewhere there— Pretending we aren’t there, You found an unbroken place Suddenly shy even after months of waiting. To land on— When we first meet I don’t want to see your approach, Somewhere there, It will make me too shy to watch

Each other walking closer and closer, I fell asleep.

Our minds turning to the new sight Of each other. Unable to say how it feels— Locked in a non-moment Of seeing but not

Touching or speaking— Hurricane Weekend Only expectant stares and walking. 8/29/11

I have first-met you ten thousand times We’ve come so far. In my mind. The tiny stretching of roots and sprouts and branches.

The flowering of three petals—that started I have been waiting for you and have already found you As a seed from the hard hitting sidewalk cracks In billowing dress, in a stylish hat, in my uprising and down-sitting. To almost being mowed over in your back yard

I have reached for your hand and held it fast. To finding a pot on your back porch I have kissed you. Next to your prized lemon tree plant, I have first-met you over and over again. And deserving just as much attention.

When we first meet your hand will be real I know this. And your lips there for me I know that And your beating heart will be mine. the slow progression of a year And we will start. Has brought us closer— Our first meet will be gone in a second.

Tiny, half finished glimpses of you— Gone to your ever-beating heart Your head one day, your leg the next, And something real to hold onto. A story late in the night that brings a tear.

Then laughing the next day about not much

Anything but everything.

Seedling sprouting up through the soil,

Emerging, stretching, becoming something. Roots grounded so that the swaying wind Does not break them. Time to breath in and out And memorize each contour I know this. Of your face and the slant of your handwriting. I know what time can do,

And how storms can be weathered with I know what this does to a purple flower strong roots. plant,

And to me. I know what a good strong pot and rich soil means to all of this. It digs its roots strong as the tallest tree. But, even so— And whispers that this thing won’t falter Or fall, even when hurricanes and Nothing has changed since the minute I saw you. Earthquakes and lightning and floods

Ravage the land and we all run for cover, There is a glow—

The very thing that keep this tiny plant alive. In our own private homes,

Far from each other but aware of every single Sunlight— Breath and pulse Food to this plant pulsing through its green leaves, In the other. And straining every purple flower to reach

for its rays. Listening to our respective storms in our separate lands, A glow that always comes out after the Hitting at each of our separate window world is panes, Hurricane ravaged. Standing tall like the trees outside our homes,

I saw it in your eyes when I first saw you-- And it is there. Upside down from the misfunction of the computer screen. Rays of sun that can wipe away the hurricanes And me ready to show you my cat, Coming our way, Nervous at our first meeting. Sunshine lighting any plant we grow, Any sidewalk seedling looking up, stretching to its light. It was in your eyes then,

It is in your eyes now, The kind of glow that lights up the sky in And your hand, and your voice. pink,

That makes worlds. The words you write to me late at night That sunrises this hurricane darkness. That arrive to me exactly three days later

In my mailbox, Sunlight peering its head over the shoreline. And we count the day scrupulously. One day we will walk outside to our eastern coastlines— A glow. Still dazed from our late- night phone conversations that reach til morning— Rays of sunlight shining around us. And see the sun rise.

We have done enough to plant the seed. Every single day this world has existed— Gave it strong roots, and good soil. every new day coming Made it ready for any storm coming this With this gift of light, otherworldly, way. Uncontrolled darkness without it. But the rest is the light in your eyes when I see you. Rain and squashed plants and downed trees and terrible winds and The glow—gift from the Universe. Tsunamis big as mountains can’t stop the Nothing we have to do about it. sun from stretching over Either it is there, or it is not, The ocean every morning.

This hurricane that hit the coast of North Stay Away from My Man Carolina, 8/6/11 And then rounded up to the shore of New

Jersey. Stay away from my man.

You’ve hurt him enough. Sunshine rose today above the choppy waters, Dug your claws into him until he bleeds. Poured out its rays to our shores. And he needs Plants stretching up to find it-- No you The assurance of a new day. No ring No late night hauntings. A glow that flows to us on this shore watching the sun come up. Your time has expired on him,

When you walked out that door You sent me a picture of the purple plant And what is in store After the storm and it looked okay. For you A few leaves had fallen off, but the rest was holding strong, And the mess you left behind The three flower petals still shining, No one knows.

Sunlight sparkling all around it But one thing is for sure— As it greeted the new day. Your hold on his happiness is over.

Fly away sparrow—

Under his face Over the wreckage of war, Past the hurt and tumult, Out this window into the

84 daylight of truth, Sculpting 9/7/11 Sunlight burns you out like a candle— Melted and gone, We walk into work with Clay under our fingernails. Don’t prolong your stay. Go— On my eyebrow, on your leg.

And let all of us bright spirits You try to dust it off. Blaze in your absence. Your hair is white. Chalk flies into the air.

Puff of smoke when someone Brushes up against you in the hall.

No one quite knows where it comes from.

Hard to explain what happened The night before.

The things that were made, The case of the dust and clay.

Hard to explain. No one knows but you and me.

How we spent all night on the phone together,

Stepped into another time and place. Make no sense anymore.

Somewhere between the long hours Little bits of the past— Of talking on the phone, Shapes of other times, So that my voice mixed with yours Of other faces, And I can’t tell where yours starts and mine Moments rising and falling in our lives— ends. Distorted, misshapen pieces of clay.

Somewhere between that and the call of the All thrown into the mix. task,

The call of the night, Slabs of clay made up of our tiny parts Drawn together to understand, Smashed down to this moment,

This clay, this reality of you and me. Separate, then merging closer.

Shapes we never thought would soften— Somewhere there, Shapes that once jabbed at use We step into a place— And hard hit the ground. A workshop. Now soft, porous, moldable.

Slabs of clay and mud Melting into one workable, soft block of Covering tables. clay.

One block. Ours. Our white aprons, our putty knives,

Our walking around the lumps Each time we talk we build up one form or Of clay another, Soft and smooth form— Smashing them to bits— A hand, a leg, the side of a neck. A house we imagine together, Strange distorted figures that A life we both breathe freely in.

Laughter—the shape of it. And your voice and mine A mouth. A smile. The feel of your arm. Are separate machines Coming from two separate Forming, blending all the shapes deep into Sources. The night. And we somehow have to Find a way to say goodbye— New monuments rising up from Wrenching, awkward goodbyes. The block of clay.

Turn our backs from the workshop Skyscrapers, giants, dome-shaped. For a time, House impenetrable to dinosaurs, or flood or sadness. Aprons must come off, Put on our day clothes, And somewhere around 3am

We say our sleepy farewell— Shuffle to the clocking in and the

Papers shuffling Snapped back into the rolling forth of time— And trying to look normal When clay still rests The jarring reality of work Under our fingernails And children and Alarm clocks, And rising skyscrapers shapes Rising up in a few hours. Dance in our brains.

We step out of the workshop— Eyes squinting at the glare Of it—the reality—

That this is only a cellphone,

Air Men lining up, 9/7/11 Scarecrows on the yellow brick road, Helping me find what goes here, I had to pass through ghosts to fine you. and what goes there.

I was looking for you— Which road to take at the fork of the road. Sometimes there were glimpses— How I need someone kind, Someone had your arm, But not too soft. Your eyes, your kindness, your dance steps. How I need someone quiet, Walking past them like air. But not too shy. Clear, transparent, Grasping for them but each was so Able to look at a sunset without blinking unattainable. Able to fix a fence on a Saturday morning without complaining. Just a glimpse of you in their scepter eyes, And translucent smiles. Able to hold me without growing tired.

Each one taught me which direction to go— They line up— The short and narrow path leading your And some just taught me what wasn’t, direction. And what couldn’t and why

Veering due north, following that bright star. It needs to be you.

Realizing I needed someone who made me Why it is all these things I need. laugh, My gradual progression up the mountain, Realizing I needed to dance. Northwardly direction,

Each path carefully chosen by now,

Switchbacks leading steep up the mountain Put down your bags edge— And become a real thing Gradual progression to exactly what I in my arms. want—

How hands feel in my hands—

And which are best for me—

The kindness in an eye

The stop to gaze at a child and smile.

Noticing the love of God.

My progression towards what fits.

Top of the mountain now,

Looking down at all of them calling to me from the Dark side of the cliff.

Looking for the opposite of the darkness they hold.

The way they stop trying when things get too hard.

The way they look away, always distracted.

I stand at the top of the mountain,

Farther from them.

Closer to what I think might be you.

The sun rises, I stand with arms outstretched. Waiting for you to pass that bend in the road,

Before Meeting It might appear so usual, 10/11 A Thursday afternoon.

Twenty-four hours before I meet you. What could be more normal Than that? I tell people about it and they Don’t understand. But no one sees the fine tooth Prickles of my neck hairs They think this is just any old Dating experience. So connected to this being I’ve never seen. They think this is a normal thing. So in tuned to what you They aren’t inside my head. Might be doing. Registering how My heart is Seconds away from meeting you. Picking up Its beat the closer you Get to me.

How I literally can Think of nothing but you.

Breathing in and out The site of our first meet.

Going about this day At work.

About Galaxies Days passed or who was trying to reach me on the 10/14/11 Phone or where my keys are.

There was so much Light from some fabulous star coming from Sunshine on our days together. above

Each memory is Talking to me and you from some other Dotted with specks of light. place. Some Kolob where all galaxies turn to rotate. The sunrise shining on the glimmering water. Some gravitational pull of light and air. The sun illuminating a bright yellow flower, Lighting, streaming onto a tree And the most important part-- We are sitting on. You.

Light shining on our white blanket on the You told me that at the center shore Of the galaxy is light. Until it looks like a candle lit up. And showed me on your phone, So much light in my memories. Picture proof that it was true.

I walk around today squinting, You told me this after you blazed past me, Tripping, disoriented Red and black comet shooting through the After the other-worldly visit. sky.

The hours of being called up to some other Finding out that cab rides are universe. Much better together, Beams of light streaming from heavenly And we both sit on the floor orbs. When we eat.

I can hardly see and I had no sense of how many You blazed past me,

And I wondered why I always Spider Web Thought they had an empty center. 11/14/11

Why I hadn’t heard about the galaxies, You said I entangled you Or maybe never believed until now. Like a spider.

Why I thought all these years You said I crawled That we were being pulled by darkness From my web, Moved one string When all of it might really be light. After the next Until you were caught Your hand in my hand, Unmoving in my threads.

Light—the candles glowing You said this. At the salsa lesson. And the sun rose over us Light—the glistening, almost Like glory. Full moon. Shining above the ocean In front of us. Light everywhere And the waves gently I looked. Rolled. And the smell of your breath was On my lips.

My hair covering Your face Both of us Enshrouded in the strands.

Our own bright

Cave, Meet that pulling away Faces pressed together. From you hurts.

You said I was like a spider. Pulling away feels like Loosening, unravelling. And then I laughed and rolled Away. Shocked when You are gone. Because there is nothing much to Say about that. Shocked that your Hand is no longer But one month later In mine.

With each breath I breathe Confused.

One more web gets fastened, Web connected to every One more string attached Part of me now. To our hearts. It’s hard to breath without You can’t even start Reaching for you. to unravel. Wondering where you are, The glorious sun still What happened to your touch. Shines on us, Breathing in and out What happened to our Faces pressed together Cave of hair. Eyes fixed on each other. Our spider’s lair. Web so tightly Our tangled web knit Spun each time we So close.

I’m walking in a dream Ribbons Through this day at work. 11/9/11

The papers pushing their way Each time I see you Past my desk, not even It gets harder to leave. Noticing. Whatever it is I am there on the beach We are making together. With my hair around your Face, Whatever this magic And the sun just starting Consists of. To dance on the water. It leaves a mark.

I walk away and the Mark remains.

A thousand beautiful ribbons Flying around my hair.

Or birds nesting Or golden arrows.

Whatever it is. I can’t quite tell.

Invisible filaments Wrapping around my Hearts and yours.

Each time you kiss me Two Flames Dancing Each breath we share, 12/11

The air ‘Lying down looking We breathe, Into your eyes, Each smile or touch Talking to you Of our hands, About nothing Weaving some string And everything. Of light that wraps around And around Telling you what is in My heart. Like beauty itself until This safe place where We are glowing with it. You and I collide.

And each time I leave you, Where our souls fuse The tug of it is stronger. And join. The feel of it is greater, The presence of it is massive. Testing and It stands a solid thing when you leave, Being separate, Then One. When we are pulled apart. Like two flames dancing Ten thousand ribbons tugging at your Next to each other. absence.

Now and then Rays of light, Combining to one Weaving and intertwining, Large flame Tugging when you and I are gone.

I wish I could feel your touch Strong enough to In my hand tonight. Light the room.

Fork in the Road 1/12 Left on the path for one more day with you. One more switchback This is day of coming Climbing up this mountain. To a fork in the road. This scraggly path— Destination unknown-- I reach these kinds of Treacherous probably, Days a lot. Not recommended, fraught with Rough patches. Every movement on Give it to me. I’ll take it. This road with you and me Requires a decision, Take my hand to hold. A choice. I will walk into the clouds with you, Hardly seeing my feet. Today was a choice One in front of the other, Of two paths. Scared and unsure.

I am afraid one path The harder path. Looked much better than the other. So crazy to go this way.

The path to my right looked brighter— Some days just requiring love and An easy descent Faith to get to the end of it. To gentle pastures I’ve been to before. Some days requiring A stout heart, bravery, belief. I’ve taken that path a million Times before. But the top of the mountain awaits, Someday, this path will end But not today. And our breaths will suck in, Today I go left in the fork in the road. Amazed at the view.

Ten Thousand Nights Jagged mountain peaks springing up 1/27/12 All around us, Valleys below us I want ten thousand And clouds above. Nights with you.

We will stand at the top of this When you hold my Mountain, Cheek like a precious thing. My hand in yours, And call me And this little someday of Into your whirlwind. Treacherous paths Will seem like a I want your air, Laughable thing. And light, The stars of the morning. You and me looking over that Mountain world from above. I want the way You touch me like I am yours.

The way we close our eyes And don’t know who

Starts and

where we begin.

Our Beginnings 1/12 Writing to me so long ago.

Reading over our beginnings, I can see your desk, The first time we greeted Your fingers, Each other, Moving the keyboard, Writing words onto a Pushing “Enter”. Computer screen, Hidden identities, Making a sentence that Voiceless, Would catch my attention. Letters popping up onto Screens. A real, breathing you On the other side of Tiny electric Those words. Lights brightening, Forming shapes I smile at your long white Traveling eight hundred miles Fingers pressing Through cords and air. Those keys.

We didn’t know who Me reading your words we were. And smiling and laughing, Watching the beginning of Didn’t know what it all A miracle starting. Would mean. Not knowing what it all Meant. But now I am reading those first words And I smile. Pushing “return” and “send” And daring you to know me. I can see you now, The full picture of you.

Valentine’s Day When you, my love, don’t even feel or look or taste 2/10/12 Like this dime store picture of this check-out impulse buy shelf. Here, my love, is a poem. On Valentine’s Day. When your lip, my love, don’t even curve A love poem. that way, Because the cards that they make When the sound of the waves crashing next to you, my love, In the stores Are stronger than this couple on the beach, Show pictures of silhouetted When no one knows the beach I’ve been to Men and women standing next to windows with you. Or walking alone on beaches. When no one has seen how your hands And the script is curved, and the words touch mine, speak of And the epic expanse of our love story. This thing as if we all have had it before. You, my love, are so beyond this piece of As if it is something between Aisle 3 for paper. diapers and Aisle 7 for makeup. You and me, my love, are so beyond this As if these go somewhere between holiday symptoms of cough colds When tired people bring tired things to tired And buying hair clips and dental floss and loved ones. love. But you, my love, cannot join in that As if we all stroll down these lonely aisles to category the same Because you and I are unknown and Tune of lonely aisle music with the tainted unexplained air I can’t breath And unclaimed at the checkout aisle. And the passing bodies and somehow we can And known, my love, by real, true, All find these words to mean what these words should mean. Light up your life love.

When you, my love, mean nothing like that.

The Night Before Getting Married 4/5/12 The expanse.

Tomorrow you and I-- Tomorrow will somehow Stop and start. Tomorrow we will-- We’ll go to work— Tomorrow this whole Thing will stop. I will rise and step forward And begin it Change. Move. As if nothing Has happened A key turned in some Invisible lock And there is no Somewhere. Beating to the Ticking of the A word whispered. Clock to The exact hours Blessings over our heads. And days And seconds A hushed whisper. When tomorrow Tomorrow will. You and I Will get married. Tomorrow will be

About to the Smallness and the Largeness,

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Married Years 2012 to 2017

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El Yunque 4/10/13 Adam emerging from the mossy undergrowth,

Some primeval force from long ago or long It was so beautiful there. ahead. The coqui frogs croaking and the low moan of the pigeons Time-warped. And all the plants bending over to touch us, You and I partners in a story we already And the waterfall bursting from the rock knew. And the whole expanse of the wild. New world reaching up to greet us. Our skin growing younger, immortal With every second. It was so beautiful there. It was ours for just a moment. Creating worlds, creating kingdoms. For just a snapshot of time you and I Together through generations of time. owned that side of the mountain. The banana plants swaying to meet us It was our Eden of water flowing down The ferns touching our feet, And birds singing and fruit to eat. Timeless eternal answers,

And I could feel our skin getting younger Every time your hand held mine. And the baby in my belly Jumping like a fish, Singing with the rest of creation.

And I looked over at you (You wore a hat and a white t-shirt And binoculars around your neck),

I got a glimpse of you as some other Being for a moment,

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Making Castles Out of Shacks Gratitude 4/17/13 4/25/13

You said it was better to knock I sat down to write a list of all the things Down our ramshackle old shacks I am grateful for. We keep trying to build for ourselves. It was hard to write the first line.

You said we should knock those down. My heart was tight and I didn’t have time Demolish one room after the next. For this exercise. You said it would be worth it. The spirit telling me to write this list This demolishing doesn’t seem to be worth But me putting it aside like it’s some much. Laundry heap I can forget about at All of my friends have beautiful homes. The end of the day. They walk around in plumed wonder,

Peacocks showing off the newest this and that. Listing my gratitude, Slowly writing one thing after another. And I am a mess. And each time my heart opening, One room knocked down, My eyes seeing, The next coming down before My soul rising like a flower. I can even catch my breath. Before I can even keep up with the Jones’. Finally a drop of water to a parched Before I can regain my dignity. Mouth of bitterness.

One room after the next. Gratitude. It is down to a dusty little rubble with no Simple, uncomplicated. sparkle left. Looking around at all the love in my heart. Waiting for God to change me. Love I scorned a few days ago. It is taking a long time but I am waiting. Love I threw away and said wasn’t real.

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Resurrection There it is—picking it up 4/10/13 Seeing it differently now. Trying to find myself after all this disruption. The drops of rain, My leg is over there. The thirsty mouth of this parched My hand fell off the cliff. Soul waiting to live again. My hair is entangled in the brambles of that

bush. Gratitude for all of this.

The trees outside my window Coming back to the sight of the wreckage. The chance to breath The epicenter of the explosion. The three little ones The place where my life turned cartwheels, Who call me their Mother, Three hundred and sixy degrees and I The one who loves me. emerged,

All of their hands in mine for morning One year later— prayer. A somewhat ruffled, somewhat different Gratitude for these small snapshots of person. beauty.

Walking through the ruins, collecting this Finally noticing the love all around me. piece of skin And that piece of bone.

My wedding ring, My most cherished necklace, The curl of my hair.

A year ago I let it all go.

I dove into the abyss

Of a highly risky game.

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I played not knowing the outcome. God changed me. Not knowing if it would all work out. And I remember that I played the piano once, Doubting every move along the way. Or that I used to love that song Losing faith over and over again. Or that I know how to write poetry, Falling back into haunted lives and fears. My hands speeding out this poem Making this a harder year than I ever expected possible. Like I always knew— But I had forgotten. A year of ghosts and ruins and fear I had forgotten poetry. When I thought this little abyss I walked over would be roses and peace. I descended into that abyss And now poetry comes back, And some of that but some of the other too. Like a piece of me, So that I am here a year later walking Lifting back up to my soul. Around wondering who I have become. Here I am collecting these pieces of me, My hands stronger now, Things lost for decades. My heart stronger now, Teenage innocent self before I became lost Seeing clearer now. In the world. I laugh a stronger laugh, Teenage childish heart of loving God and I cling to life more strongly. Wanting Him so badly.

Every day a little piece of me restored again. Here I am returning to that. A piece of me from the rubble coming back. And the woman who writes poetry.

But I’m not the same me. And someone who knows how to have babies

Like it is nothing anymore, The pieces came back to me one by one Or sits down and play the viola, but to not the same person at all.

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Or sits down and write a poem. The Call of the Bears 4/12/13 Pieces of me. Sometimes I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Or feel my body lumbering as I pass by a shadow or under a tree.

I am a bear--all of this valley wide.

I am seven months pregnant.

I think of my grandmother as I move myself

From one place to the next.

My grandmother hobbling in her old age,

Trying to contain the round rings of fat

Taking over her middle section.

The birds of Yellowstone flying in and out

Her rafters every night.

Bears making their way down the Snake River, Down the steep cliffs looking for fish. Bears digging snow caves in the dead of winter.

My grandmother opening her windows

Each morning to the bears all around her—

Preparing her body for cold days ahead.

And I, bear-like, think of her.

Wondering if my body will transform

Or stay this way.

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Wondering how to get through these Stay Long winters of endless snow. 3/14

A million times I have been told to stay

Just like the words Inside your ring

Just like that

Song we love.

Sometimes

Prophetic visions

Of you and me

In white

Under a canopy of trees And a waterfall And the whisper that you Were meant for all

This and all those Promises, And to just Wait,

And to stay.

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In the Middle A million times I have been told to stay, 9/17 In the whispering Of babies wanting to Here we are in Be here The middle.

Or apricot trees reaching to the It’s been shocking Sky Or Landing on our feet.

13-year old boys who 5 years of moving Need a friend Mountains and oceans To readjust In the end all the same. Our lives.

The same blowing wind To be here in the middle. Telling me to stay, Teetering on a Always stay Tricky tightrope And try Of some children And hope Born And believe, And some almost One more day, Gone. One more lifetime And most in the middle With you— Growing up and Changing every day. My always Hand holding Hair getting a little Friend. Longer Nails growing and

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Being cut. These dreams will Be less possible and old age Measuring themselves Will creep in. Against the Wall in the kitchen. Still in the middle. Not old yet-- Making tick marks Relevant On the yardstick every Important Now and then. Dream-Makers Holding up and juggling And here we are in the middle And being strong. The great balancing act of you And me trying to get I like this place. A word in Between the millions of I like this middle place With you. Things to juggle. I like being strong next to We are in the middle, You.

Waiting for our house to I like building this world Be built, With you. In these middle years. Juggling dreams Wondering if Each one is valid Or worth it, or Toss-able

Knowing that eventually

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Christmas Eve Came to earth and when 12/24/17 Everything changed.

Lord we come before thee Trying to hold your little This sacred night, Baby hand in this world that This end of the year Is so different now, where

This night before you Cellphones ring in our ears Were born long ago. And the radio won’t stop talking And we keep texting everybody because We come before you We miss you and miss making Sense and we get so distracted Trying to remember. So easily. Trying to hold your little Baby hand in our hearts. Trying to hold your little Baby hand when our own Searching for you amid Babies are crying and want All the wrongness going Everything from us On around us. And sometimes we get to bed Forgetting you in all the noise. Amidst all the fighting And the daily news Lord it is Christmas Eve And the road rage and the And the world is so different now. Financial worries and the Plumbing and the bills. But we are Christians holding Up candles for you this night Lord we come before thee, Christians everywhere, Getting ready to hear the Trying to remember that Angels singing to us Silent quiet night when light In the skies,

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Getting ready to run to you That if someone lit only one little With our meager gifts, Match the whole world would Explode. Wishing we could hear you Through all the din of this world, We want to get away from that.

Getting ready to run. We want to step away Getting ready to hear those From our Angels singing, and Busy-ness. Getting ready to let you Into our inn. We go to the high mountains when we Get a chance, Wishing we could be your midwife, Just for silence, and purity. Your water bearer, Your door holder. And we meet together on this night Before you were born to just Wishing we could see you. Be together For a few moments and to just think Jealous of those shepherds About the wonder of it. Who came to see, Wishing it was us. To think about you and your tiny Baby hands. Oh, Lord, we are sorry For the stupidity of this time That little hand that was real. We live in. This is a true story. It is not a creche We come to the end of this Or a theatrical production or a movie Year with heavy hearts Made in Hollywood. Because everything around us Is so infuriating and it feels A true story.

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And the finances. A little baby. A real thing. All of it will stop. Son of God come to earth. And the flesh-and-bones Jesus Will look right at us. The Being who made the heavens And the earth and all things. We will reach out for his hand— Flesh wounds in each palm— Lying there with his little baby hands. And get the hand of a man. Not a baby. A man. As real as you and me. A sacrifice already made. We are in a dark and fading time. Choirs of angels We are Christians waiting and wishing. Singing this time because He is Real and He is here and He We are at a time when Is true. That little baby has grown up. We Christians are waiting around Baby hands are now those of a man. For this and remembering and with Each Christmas Eve we may get fuzzy A real person with blue shining eyes. On what it is all about because it Is always fuzzy right before He comes. And we are at the end of times When we are waiting. He will come back It is always the darkest of times. Any day now. Any second. He is It is always the last-ditch effort for Christians Just around the corner. To be killed who are

Waiting for Him— All this darkness and gloom.

All these cellphones and political tensions Our Nephite heroes holding And daily news and social media Out even when no one believed And the laundry and the cares

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And they were going to be put to death the Next day if the sign did not come. But it came.

We are waiting for Him.

We are shepherds. We are Nephites. We are believers who watch The start of every night, Watching and waiting, Ready for any signal.

We know each night as we go to bed That He is just around the corner. We can tell in the chill of the air Or the stars smiling on us.

We are counting the signs And wise men searching The heavens.

He is waiting and sees us and holding Our hands. We are getting ready. We better hear those choirs of Angels and we better go Running for Him. I will run to Him.

I have been waiting all my life to run.

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