Love x 48 = Lucky Lucky Me

It's my birthday. Reflecting on Forty-Eight. (!?!)
I'll go with words from national treasure Maya Angelou:

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

#YesAllWomen: Trust

What is it
that nearly ten years later
is starting to crack
and flow
like water pouring off our roof
when the ice dams broke?

You pull me toward you,
not to strike me,
but embracing me in greeting,
missing me
like the mountain that loved the bird.
My name is joy.

I remember
my head against a pool table
like it was yesterday,
and so I think
your hands at my collarbone
could mean no tomorrow.

I am strong, but you are stronger.
You cradle my head in your hands,
arching toward my lodestone.
You will lead my way.
Sound your horns! I have arrived,
exposed and triumphant.

#YesAllWomen 

This poem appears in my first book, Responsive Pleading.

Grooming Lessons

Can I please wear it?

     Yes--

(Your favorite

           shirt.)

     Wink--

     Girls

   like a bath

 before going out.

       --First

(Where did she go?)

     Splash--

        She went out

                 dancing.

For my own occasional music prompt to the Real Toads: So Much Mine

Between Chapters

Long legs of daylight
close for shawl-shivered evening,
goosefleshed knees of night.

The Great American Novel

Tossing in the wind,

exercising

unexpected plot twists

buffeted by passing cars,

Times-Roman somersaults

on bright white pages

by the hundreds

tumbled on the highway

like a Carnival krewe’s confetti

with me as Marshal

leading the cavalcade

through loose chapters,

seeing pages of my own verse,

nimble on the wind.

The Care and Keeping of Fragile Things

Thank you for the hibiscus--

gorgeous, like May weekends.

Like you.

Truth is, I’ve had bad luck

keeping hibiscus alive.

But I’ll tackle hibiscus care

anew, tending

each fragile flower,

my gift from you.

Truth is, you were gorgeous

like a hibiscus, or an angel,

but hard to keep alive.

I was unprepared

for how fragile

you were. I read books,

lost sleep, prayed to angels

that you would wake

each morning.

Now, your wild hair flying,

long legs running,

stronger-every-day arms

wrapped around Mama--

Mama’s heart wrapped around yours,

remembering

you can be broken still.

You’re fragile, we are fragile,

flowering still.

The Blink of an Eye

Our house

will one day

blow into the ocean;

high wires

were rigged to collapse.

One sixtieth

of one minute in a year

representing all millennia

will be lapped by lava,

folded in a cosmic tear

of little consequence.

If we’re barrelling

down extinction,

let’s breathe in this second

and the next

as they pass.

For the first Flash Fiction 55 hosted by Real Toads!

Chapel Street

The house

is changed

when he’s out:

observant,

besotted,

thrumming

with questions

she never asks.

For Kerry’s prompt to the Real Toads: Vignette

It's a Laugh Riot Over Here

Funny how

lists of things you need

never include things

you already have,

when truth be told,

what you have

is what you need most,

and that is not very funny.