Confession

I confessed to tears

at news of slaughter

from my old neighborhood

but in reality didn’t cry

I stopped crying years ago

Now I store suffering

behind my eyelids

and wonder

when the storage will be full

And what will happen then

Meanwhile I realize

it would take real courage

to admit being unable to cry

or ask for help

So that’s not what I’m doing here

October Tanka

An autumn archway

of just-so bending branches

crowned with chimney smoke

rising on cold air

through star-frosted windows

Notebook poetry for Kerry in the Imaginary Garden!

The Eleventh Hour

One of my poems appears in this gorgeous volume, Silkworm 11: The Eleventh Hour. Silkworm is the annual review of my beloved Florence Poets Society. I am so proud of this book and our group, the members of which I am endlessly grateful to and inspired by, wonderful poets, each and every one. Here’s my poem from Silkworm 11: 

 “Just a Few Small Things I Like”

I like the way

you open windows

in any kind of weather

as if to say hello morning air

thank you for visiting

I like the way

your fingers

navigate a messy ponytail

on weekday evenings

when you let your hair down

I like the way

you say you love me

even when you’re pissed off

The Floating World

When despair

fills your body so fully

that breathing

becomes a focal point

bringing memories

of floating near ceilings

like a quirky witch

observing reality

from relative distance

you realize

that the upside-down

is actually quite familiar

and you possess the tools

to move through even this

in power

The Building Shakes When Trains Go By

It’s hard to understand

dreams from which screaming

I must be shaken awake

but have no memory

And what about

this waking nightmare

we are all walking alongside

in broad daylight

The nights are getting longer

as horrors grow bolder

lying outright

under penalty of perjury

Shakily I wonder

when the trains start running