poetry

burning bridges

burning bridges

you’d never give up on anyone
she says
and she’s right –
why would I?

we talk an hour
and the only useful thing I say
is her lucky number

but it’s enough
it adds up to family
as meager as it’s always been
as hungry as it’s always left me

poetry

it gets worse / better

Photo of Val Szarek's excerpt of Amanda Gorman's "The Hill We Climb."

it gets worse / better

Inspired by a prompt from Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s Loving the Self: A Poetry Playshop.

gazing into the fire
asking what do you have to teach me today?

all I hear is
the old toddler parenting mantra

it gets worse
before it gets better

friends
it could always get worse
but what if we willed ourselves to believe
today we’re one day closer to better?

poetry

perspective

perspective

on this first full green-blue day of panicked spring
I cup a little brown mouse in my palm
put my lips to her round warm ear
and whisper
until every last fear has exited my chest
in a slow stream of warm urgent breath
carrying bits of my heart and mind
into her delicate nervous system

she blinks
twitches her whiskers
pats my thumb with her paw
as if to say
oh sweet one
imagine having a nestful of blind babies
surrounded by silent owls
you never know
when disappointment may come
all you can do
is greet the sun
with whatever semblance of thanks you can muster
any day it deigns to shine