postcard to the sun
heart to sun
its fire heating my core
I warm to what’s star in me
consumed, consuming
thinning into flares that sometimes
destroy the neighborhood
prayer to end procrastination
prayer to end procrastination
my son rattles off his high school deadlines
with certainty
positive he’ll get it all in on time
oh Lord
may I sit down
with a clear heart
and hours of untasked time
to subtract out the use tax money
and write the overdue
or early
(depends how you look at it)
grant report
may I cheerfully pound out what’s needed
and then sleep
untroubled by doubt’s cold flames
Bestiary: Tick
Bestiary: Tick
From a prompt by Aimee Nezhukumatathil.
because you fill the staid eastern woods with peril
parachuting down onto my bared unsuspecting neck
attaching yourself to my calves when
I think I’ve only had a brush with Solomon’s seal
crawling into my nooks so gently
I never notice your prowling
because you bite me so tenderly that I don’t even register
my warm blood shunting into
your stiff brown accordion abdomen
because with every suck there’s the possibility
that a virulent part of you
will wend its way back to me
I should consider being cautious
but because you dwell out there in the wilds
in the forests and the grasslands
along the singletrack and the bluestem
in the waist-high green of off-the-beaten-path
I can’t help but risk another run-in:
the cost of doing business, as they say
you should consider being cautious
because although I’ll not put a match to you
(too dangerous for both of us)
I will pluck you out with tweezers
your flat/fat abdomen squeezed tight in the metal
then dump you in the empty peanut butter jar
where you may circle for days until the oxygen’s all expended –
my insurance in case I fall ill later
and your corpse requires testing
so think twice before you sink those greedy mandibles
into my soft pink flesh
the penny dish: a dream I hope to awake to
the penny dish: a dream I hope to awake to
Based on a prompt by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
back in the days of cash money
greenbacks soft as cotton
or crisp as pressed trousers
coins that made your palms smell of ore
and that ever-present jingle in my father’s restless pocket
often at the register you’d find
a small shallow dish
sometimes with an invitation:
need a penny? take one
have a penny? leave one
or something along those straightforward lines
never did I see someone
dump the whole plate into their handbag
or rake their fist through the copper discs
and clench them all triumphantly
worth next-to-nothing, no one coveted them
and no one stockpiled them
no one tried to shovel their
leaky bucket full of cents
no, people stuck to being reasonable.
they showed restraint
and took only what they needed.
they had sense.
light bulb / flame
light bulb / flame
when the caucus trainers
are younger than the caucus goers
so young, in fact, they’ve likely never voted,
the trainers ask the trained
what it will be like
but we don’t know –
we’re only familiar with the old-fashioned in-person kind
where Peter Lewis held up a sign
with our precinct number
and we all filed down the public school hallway
to our assigned classroom
then fit ourselves into other people’s desks
and raised our hands to vote now and then
we don’t know how to caucus in a Zoom window
how to vote via chat
but we do know how to be real together
so when one woman asks
what to say about the mayor’s stance on rebuilding after the fire
it’s not too surprising when the mayor suddenly appears
to answer us herself
Feeling Grateful
Feeling Grateful
at the spring band concert
it’s not like fall
yes, we are the same people
lined up in the same hallway
to watch the same kids
play the same instruments
in the same black and white clothes
but we’re not the same
the talk is of the fire
where were you?
how are you?
where are you living now?
and the undercurrent in every conversation is
I’m so glad you’re still alive
your kid is still alive
we’re still alive
not all the instruments are the same
not all the black and white clothes made it
but we all did
we’re all still alive and here to listen
to the sixth graders labor through Lean on Me
and the Jazz Band absolutely kill it
playing Feeling Good
shirts vs. skins
shirts vs. skins
I’m not the one to draw up the plans.
I’m not the one to sift the ash.
I’m not the one to load the backhoe.
I’m not the one to lay the brick.
I’m not the one to fix the problem.
I’m not the one to make things right.
I’m not the one to keep my promise.
I’m not the one to clear the air.
I’m not the one to turn the soil.
instead
I’m the one to think I know better.
I’m the one to tell how things should be.
I’m the one to shake my head disapprovingly.
I’m the one to ignore the warning signs.
I’m the one to coach from the sidelines.
I’m the one with no skin in the game.
inviting fire
inviting fire
in the cabin it’s warm
but not cozy
the crackle and flicker
the exuberance of combustion
are missing
sometimes fire sits with us
like an old friend
sometimes it levels us
poof
all up in smoke
natural dissonance
natural dissonance
the irony isn’t lost on me
running the air purifier
and the oven self-clean cycle
simultaneously:
we all do our best
to manage our inconsistencies
in the dark
under the stars
Fennec is tense with listening
uncomfortable to be out in the wild night
but curious what’s here
inside, the boys squabble over
who can help rip out the carpet
Alex says it’s like Huck Finn
but we all breathe easier
when the orange shag’s removed
at the spring
we all look up and know
this is why we’re here
trying to get clean
trying to get clean
air purifiers –
hot new accessory of the 2020s
with prefilters in an array of colors
to match your moods –
I go for charcoal
over electric blue
when we open it
the boys discuss how it compares
to the ones at their schools
especially in their auditoriums
it’s one more thing I’ve never dealt with
that these times demand
