you are the weather

I watch you like the weather.
Checking hourly.
With each degree
We change.
And you are the weather,
Evaporating each drop of rain,
Storing it in your clouds.
Storing, saving, stuffing
Heavy, bloated, and full.
You pour and store and
Pour and store and pour and
freeze.
You weigh down my branches until
I break.
You let yourself be still
Until you melt
As your breath gently shakes me.

Triolet 1

I write letters

To people I haven’t met

Yet – when we’re together

I write letters

To you to remember

To not be upset when

I write letters

To people I haven’t met.

Grocery List

Her husband left the house

While she was still upstairs,

So she then said goodbye

To her clear blue beta fish,

Which turned away from her

As she was telling him

What she had planned for dinner.

But she did not stop talking,

Because it was the nicest

Discussion she had had

All week. She told him of

Her boss, her new perfume,

And he just swam around

The stem of the small plant

She kept in his small tank.

She told him of her plans

To take a trip to Seoul

As she then creased her list

Into a perfect square,

And slipped it in the book

That she’d been reading for

Six weeks. And on her way

To work, she realized she

Forgot to feed her fish. 

First Reconciliation

I tug on my new dress and look around

As if my mom could hear me from the pew.

My priest’s near face now seems to be too far,

Too tall, too big, too powerful for me

To be myself here anymore, but here

I am. And I have practiced. I’ve spent time,

I have been thinking about what to say

When I got here. What words to say to him-

To Him. But as I sit in the make shift

Confessional, in the far back of the church

After waiting in line to see the priest

Who looked the nicest – the most forgiving,

All I can do is stare at his green garb

Hoping the words I practiced will appear.

I have talked back to both my mom and dad

And yelled and fought and punched my brother, And

I’m truly sorry. Your sins are now absolved.

Please go in peace and pray for me. My feet,

Now light and free, return me to my mom

Outside into the light that’s now too bright,

Too harsh, too much for me to know where I

Now am – and so, I reach to hold her hand

But gravity pulls my arm back to my side.  

My Dearest Moon

He said we'd always have you,
That none could take you away.
The Earth would not beat us
Because we both could see
Your reign over the night;
So all of those miles -
That had kept him from me -
Well, they just disappeared
But only for a moment.
Just for the short time when
We stared into your light.
And in that very moment,
I forgot your dark side.

The Making of a Prayer Square

Her body stays as still

As just her eyes look straight

Ahead at God knows what.

Each finger gives and takes

And turns and twists and pulls

The yarn around and through.

With every loop, she adds

A bit more of that blue.

She moves her mouth as fast

As she now moves her wrist;

A silent prayer of thanks

She says with each new stitch,

Each quick soft knit and pearl,

That moves her closer – still

Her eyes look straight ahead,

She feels a sudden chill. 

For a Friend...

Each time you don’t answer,

I call again. I call your mom. I call your mom again.

I wait.

When was the last time I spent time with you?

Was it at that coffee shop when we got smiles from strangers

Because you were playing your ukulele loud enough for everyone to hear?

We let our tea get cold in night.

The manager picked up our mugs and kindly asked us to leave.

They were closing.

I turned my car off once we pulled into your driveway,

Your family, inside, packing for your vacation.

You couldn’t remember if you had already told me

So the words came out of your careless, cool smirk—

You didn’t want anyone to miss you

When you were gone.

Gone.

For that second you matched those passing strangers.

I blinked so I could see you clearer.

Turned away and turned back

To see your face still bright from the house light—

And even though your glasses weren’t slipping

You pushed them up,

Shrugged, and kept on talking.

No. It was when you bought me lunch last week.

I put honey in my oatmeal.

You told me to make sure you didn’t eat all of yours

Because it would make you sick.

I had to remind you three times.

You were wearing the necklace I gave you, the one with the small frog on it.

You said you never took it off because you love it.

Because you love me.

When was the last time I told you that I love you?

Yesterday? Today?

I wish it were enough.

(Maybe you’re still asleep)

I’ll call again. No answer.