thank you, Maker Table Makers
my children make me a picture
of what’s worth protecting
but they miss themselves
moments later there they are
spitting with the effort
required to stay afloat
here I will build
a wall of light around them
a fiery band of love
that they can always call home:
whatever they do is enough
whoever they are, they’re loved
on not changing
i
I love it all
even the way
I can’t say no
ii
buckets full
overflowing even
some spills over
does everyone good
iii
some days
there’s even more patience
than the day demands –
that’s when we laugh
3 Valentines
i
here where the choice of words
feels so weighted
tú vs. usted
ser vs. estar
every sentence revealing
one’s innermost thoughts
about where things stand
I say today and tomorrow and tomorrow
tú y yo
somos
enamorados
ii
you don’t need to
say you’re sorry
only accept
the warm fuzzy love
and bright grapefruit-pink joy
I hold out in both hands
for you
iii
I’ve never been disappointed
by what’s inside
your oh-so-deep
kind well of
patient and giving heart
garbled
I remember a time
I could run my finger across your forehead
and set things right
now I gush mouthfuls of words
that hold no comfort
and I fear your heart is moving away
outside mine
but after midnight, it’s just us awake
and in the stillness
you tell me a story we both understand
about unfounded fear
and losing parts of oneself
and then we know
in the dark together
we are truly loved well
whatever we might say
however we might fail
Mom, leaving
it’s only after she disappears
beyond the departures curve
that I realize
we forgot parting photos
just like her water bottle
still chilling in our fridge
where I promised (and failed)
to remind her to look for it
somehow despite all my
absentmindedness
attending to other plans
not being fully there
she still seems to feel
I’m a good daughter
on this trip she brought
a bit of evidence to reassure us both
a note I wrote when I was 8
apologizing for the indifference
of some unimpressed Brownies
letting her know I see her effort
thanking her for all she gives
and promising I will always
love her louvers
pouch peek
wooly grey fur ripples
in an unsettling way
skin splits and a nose peeks out
suddenly we learn
where koala kids are stored
in a space not as like a pocket
as a furred womb
mother K lazes unfazed
as joey rumpuses about
she’s shared her body
long as she can remember now
making room for him
not just in her heart
orange grove
behind a screen of feathery firs
neat rows of short green trees
preceded for miles
by the dripping sweet scent
of orange blossoms
so thick and heady
I can barely gulp down air
it’s the same citrus smell
your warm crown wore
after the tangerine baby wash
in the sweet simple days
before your first haircut
Mama Mubuyu
skin like smooth stone
the dull magenta of a firm ripe yam
mubuyu holds velvety fruits high
that even dried stay sweet
a treat that won’t rot
she keeps a hollow in her knee
a safe spot for sleeping birds
and the languid winter air
teases her empty crown
most of all
she stays rooted
a murmuring witness
to all deeds done and undone here
a millennia-long memory
a call to humility
impossible to ignore
