Where Have You Been? Please tell me the days of CovInsanity have not ripped away your hope, or your health, or, heaven forbid, your loved ones. For me, the tug at my positive outlook on the world, the one I eventually return to after days of down or blue or even bluer, has been as... Continue Reading →
If the world was my child, fitful and sick in bed I’d put my cool hand gently on your warm forehead I’d offer you a little toast, some chamomile tea I’d ask you what story you wanted me to read If ugly fever dreams startled you and made you so afraid I’d hurry to your... Continue Reading →
for Flo Hart Arthritis I remember watching my dear friend Jimmy’s mother, Flo, scoot, literally, or squiggle, like a fish out of water, across the kitchen floor to travel from one cabinet to the next gathering what she needed to put dinner together. I offered to help, and she thanked me with her always... Continue Reading →
Charged My daughters have each accused me of this: Slut-shaming. I didn’t really know the term, but I knew exactly what they meant the minute they said it. And they were right. Proud I was embarrassed, and this was not a case of someone calling the kettle black. I raised these smart feminists, and they... Continue Reading →
No. 1* Online Dating at 60? She watches the javelina’s nose breathe against the glass puffs of steam like cotton batting as if the black snouted beast had every intention of staying through sunrise right there beside her abelia. Her ballerina legs tendu with just a trace of leftover length, of grace like pink tights... Continue Reading →
1-20-20 I cannot escape who I am, or forget -- Patti Griffin A best friend of mine completed 60 never-done-before things the year she turned 60. It was a pretty cool celebration. She didn't do 60 amazing bucket list things like climbing mountain peaks or deep sea diving or forging raging rivers. Instead, she ordered... Continue Reading →
No. 15 Will a pulled tooth return as a phantom? Like a leg or an arm is said to do? Will there be a ghost in my mouth? Will it bite the hygienist's finger next time she goes in to probe. "Gotcha!" She'll pull away holding up a sore finger wondering what happened. I'll feel... Continue Reading →
I Can Only Bake Bread for him so I will warm the kitchen perfectly for proofing like old lovers who know the best place for rising. I will wear my red sundress in my humid kitchen it fits as if I was a girl hungry and wild baking bread. Remember? I will sift the flour... Continue Reading →
I crave the sunset these days the squawking of blue jays who visit after hazy heat dips into the drawer of tomorrow leaving us to wonder what she’ll find there Those silvery chatterboxes get it all off their chests in the cooler air 'who’s got the seed? where’s that cat? where's this? where's that?' sore... Continue Reading →
Measure Me (From scraps on the dash board.) Measure me with pie with hands like a horse with a protractor circle me with the absence of approval point me in the direction of next or blueberries Measure me with poetry published or piled like primrose opening only at night patient in the darkness drawing goddesses... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 