Ode to Cecelia

Ode To Cecelia

(For Prof.Lansky)

You lie swaying in your hammock, lazy

bare feet, chocolate with painted

toes, skim the desk stacked beneath

you. Interrupting your motion.

One graceful finger taps the

wood, sets you back in sultry

swing, then returns to it’s place, as placeholder in the book, in the steady hands

of, the object of my devotion.

Thick black curls tumble down your

back, brushing your copper neck as they

rock, drawing my gaze till they

snag, on the net cradling my desire.

Deep green eyes shuttered by

luxurious lashes, bright with the words on

the page, the story within tells of

forbidden lust, your body is all I require to

set me on fire.

For Lexi

For Lexi

(on the day she qualifies for the state meet)

Poised and perfect she stands,

a gentle arch in her hands,

the point in her toes

tells me she knows,

today she must make her last stand.

She flashes those saphire blue eyes,

in a manner that deftly belies,

the heart turned and tossed

by confidence lost,

she’ll dance under this sassy guise.

Her blonde hair is braided up tight,

shes ready to put up a fight

her muscles are taut

with this gumption she’s brought,

determination is now set alight.

The jewels on her leo just sparkle,

her purpose is no longer darkled,

the first notes float through

and she knows what to do,

today she will be remarkable.

Tattered Memories

Tattered Memories
For Noah

The letter speaks of loss.

There on a tattered

paper,

folded again and again,

the assignment you never handed in

speaks truth.

Your words,

already a year old,

to a future self,

tear my soul.

There you dared to whisper

your confusion about God,

your frustration with school,

your fears about this country’s leader,

and the darkness in your soul.

I touch the words with the tired hands

of a mother struggling to help,

grateful to have reached in time.

Her little blonde and laughing boy,

one hand in a puddle,

and one hand in the cheerios,

so quickly a young man,

one hand on the paper,

one hand on the pen.

April

April
(For Ed)

And so it was that you shared

your story with me,

shared yourself with me.

Long walks,

tears and truths,

laughter.

Shared with reincarnated dogs,

and stars,

in quiet neighborhoods.

Stories under the expanse,

minds that were galaxies away

from the park where we sat.

There, on a peaceful stage,

we played the parts of broken lovers,

fallen stars,

yearning for the happy endings

the script once promised.

Dressed in costumes both,

improvising our way to the real

in us.

Don't go.....

Don’t go…..

(For Annahalle on the day you turned all your college apps in.)

too far.

These mothers arms

will yearn for your hug,

and you don’t know it yet,

but your freshman arms

will yearn for my hug too.

too hard.

There is no reason to

push yourself to excel

till you miss all the important things

like football, 2 AM pizza,

panty raids, and parties.

too smart.

Be responsible.

But make sure you live a little.

Go to the wild concert (with a friend),

skinny dip at night,

flirt, dance, kiss.

too worried.

We will miss you.

But we will walk your dog,

make our own smoothies,

and choose our own music.

We will be fine.

too fast.

This last year will fly by.

Enjoy your friends,

be as much in today as tomorrow,

savor the last times,

embrace the first times.

too long.

I will want you home

before I ever drive away.

When thanksgiving comes,

sleep in your own bed,

bring your laundry,

your music, and your arms.

Don’t stay.

Soft

Soft

Little warm bodies

curled soft and quiet

around priceless lovies,

under precious beloved blankets.

Soft quiet breathing,

languid mumbling,

rustles of feet and fingers

lost in a land of dreams.

My classroom is gentle,

lit only by the glow

of new falling snow

outside the window.

Soft music soaks into everything.

Slowly,

sleepy eyes

peer out at me from under

soft lashes.

Little yawns and

slow stretches

call to me.

I fluff soft hair,

dress warm bare feet

with socks and shoes,

and cuddle.

Short arms and soft skin

wrap around me.

Waking slowly

they lie loose and

tenderly

on my shoulder,

gazing at softly

blowing snow.

This is my favorite

part of the day:

when everything is

soft.

Salvation and Transfiguration

Salvation

So much depends

upon a cup,

held to innocent lips,

in lilly-white

brown hands.

Transfiguration

So much depends

upon a cup,

held to guilty lips,

in stained crimson

white hands.

Portmanteau

Portmanteau

crimson gold

crold

breezy calm

bralm

sweet spicy

swicy

sunny shade

shaney

crunchy quiet

criet

chilly warm

charm

such is the fantasy of Autumn

Deep October

Deep October

Would you deny me yet one more day

of blissful colors as breezes sway,

or wouldst thou give me a glistening hour,

this earthly paradise to devour?

For mine desire rises strong and heady,

the cold of winter soon made ready,

to eke out yet one more spiced afternoon,

one more kiss under a harvest moon.

A few more steps midst fallen arbor,

the last hurrah before safe harbor,

this last golden promise to keep,

before the world drifts into sleep.

Happy

Happy

Like a spray of juice from a crushed tangerine

exploding color on my tongue,

dribbling sticky sweet down my chin

on a sundrenched day,

it came.

Touched

Touched

(It is my humble desire to be such a one as this.)

You reach out through the shadowed veil

flush with hope that never fails

to one who does not claim a name

for whom only your touch of flame remains.

Welcome

Welcome

“Of course losing you will hurt me, but I welcome that pain,

because it is a testament to my love for you.”

It came to me this fleeting thought

of how i’ve loved and how i’ve lost.

I welcome both the joy and pain,

for at the end of the walk just this remains:

A testament to what’s loved and lived,

tears, and laughter, and fights forgiven.

Each memory a crystal ball

a gift from every single fall,

and in my soul I hold them all.

So i’ll take love e’en though it may flee

and i’ll treasure the pain if that should be.

I’ll lay claim to that love in every tear,

i’ll embrace it and leave behind my fear.

For first comes newness, and smiles and laughter,

no worries about what may come after.

Just glorious revelling in the discovery

of new adventures made so lovely.

I learned my lesson in a verdant grove,

on a night when I gathered treasures untold,

looked at a life in shock, wonder, and awe,

till at last comprehension came for what I saw.

So now, erase love from my world no more,

I come to this place bruised and sore,

but with welcome arms and open door

And should it hurt there is not loss, but gain,

for love be in my life again.

Knowing

Knowing

Today can only be about being.

Anything less would be an unspeakable waste.

Shame

Shame

I see you all the time across the room.

You wear shame like an old ratty coat.

Underneath the coat you dress sharp

trying to disguise yourself to the world.

In the dark do you tell yourself that all is fine,

that this is just the way that you were made?

But yet, forced into the light

of that bright flaming thing that you adore,

you really feel this shame instead.

Perhaps the intense truth of the thing you adore

forces the lie into stark relief.

Or perhaps that bright thing is tarnished itself,

fueling within you

shame that is a lie.

Autumn

Autumn

Because I never write myself soft.

The soft damp hair on my pillow

smells of cinnamon and nutmeg.

There is gently falling snow in my soul,

soft firelight in my mind.

I'm in a Hallmark movie frame of mind.

My long smooth legs languid,

brush flannel sheets.

Creamy mint green silk

flatters my form,

forgiving in all the right places.

I am floating on a perfect balance

of George Winston and Charles Dickens.

My flaming eyes burn low tonight

gentle embers grace a peaceful smile.

The chill has made me warm.

Being Changed

Being Changed

As I woke up I knew

it would never be the same.

That I was truly through

with playing all these games.

Life has been hurting me

for what seems like endless years.

No longer will I permit myself

to suffer full of tears.

In that moment I knew deeply

what freedom really means.

I won’t be in someone's clutches,

i'm chasing all my dreams.

I don't care what anyone thinks

I do what I want now.

I'll live my list of things to do,

it doesn’t matter how.

I'll work no job that I don't like

do nothing that I don't desire.

Even on my quiet days

i'll hold onto this new fire.

I'll keep the friends that respect me

and ditch the ones that don't.

If I don't want to do it

know right now that I won't.

I'm not who I was before

i’ve faced my greatest fears.

I've determined my priorities

through terror, sweat, and tears.

God knows the depth of horror

the wretching price i've paid.

Released, the straps that held me down

now dangle there assuaged.

I've left behind with pleasure

the soaked and twisted sheets.

The convergence site of hated

where misery and iodine meet.

I've died to endless longing

for things far beyond my reach.

From now on I go and get them

exploring every street.

I will love with all my being

live with all my soul.

I will not apologize

for making myself whole.

Antiseptic by the wayside,

it burns my nose no more.

Sun and grass and cinnamon

come wafting in my door.

I don't know what tomorrow brings

but that’s more than okay.

I know what it doesn't bring,

leaving me lush with joy today.

Thoughts

Thoughts

For Deborah who taught me to ‘just write’

Sun on my keyboard

Swirling thoughts in my mind

Just write and see what comes

Unlocked by letters on paper

My family keeps messing with the dictionary on my phone

Replacing names with descriptions of each other

“The short one” needs paper

College ruled because she’s “not a kid anymore”

My mothers “favoritest grandson Noah” is delighted

His faction won 300.00 last night

“The annoying child” was up forever

Because she had to make a list of books everyone should read

She thinks they all need to be college level

I think everyone should read Where The Red Fern Grows

“My lobster” built a spaceship that kept exploding on the launchpad

But it had tons of parachutes to bring it home

I am supposed to be reading Eudora Welty right now

It’s wonderful, but I can’t concentrate so i’m writing

I’m probably going to get an offer from the job I don’t want

And never a call from the one I do

I am in a war with the black flies invading my house

And the rat in the basement and the mouse on my porch

Really the mouse isn’t hurting anything and I feel friendly towards him

But soon it will be winter and he will sneak inside.

I wish my bathroom plumbing wouldn’t leak

I love the big chair in my diningroom but I have an image of the bathtub

Falling through the ceiling where the paint is peeling away

And crushing the person sitting there

When I said I wanted to see my son sing in another country

I meant Europe where he just graced the Basilica in Spain

I have a fleeting hope to settle for seeing him in Canada next year

But know how likely it is that I will be watching him on YouTube once again.

I would give my right hand to hear Anna’s symphony

In Germany next summer before I wave goodbye to my senior

I comfort myself by dreaming of following lexi on the college gymnastics circuit

As that is years away maybe I can travel the country by then

I watch my children experience the world from my couch

I am happy for them and broken that I can’t share it with them

I wish the yoga in my DBT program would calm me today

But it never does because I am always nervous about the discussion time that follows it.

I will not have time to finish my homework before I get my kids from school today

And it will be pulling teeth to get anything out of my ADD brain once they’re here

There are appointments that need to be made

And bills to pay that I am avoiding for no reason at all

There is new insurance to try to understand

And the terror that it will not cover the therapist that I now love

My dryer was quickly repaired, a blessed gift

But now my washer is repeating its cycle over and over

When I write like this I assume the mind that Deborah Keenan gave me

Years ago in a writing class that set me free from convention

I wish my family would replace my own name in their phones

I have no idea whom I would be.

Waking

Waking

The light flickers over closed eyes

let in by the mini-blinds rising slowly

on a white room with a sweaty smell.

Pain crackles through her head

but the warmth of the sun seeps in

and life slips in through a sunbeam.

Worried eyes brighten as she looks up,

grasps the hand in hers,

and fights to smile through lessening pain.

Her breath whispers naturally in her lungs,

blood throbbing in her head,

the battle for oxygen now ended.

Slowly the tide of agony is receding

taking with it fear and anguish

and the clawing certainty of death.

The oxygen to her brain is a rush,

a crazy high that she now floats on,

reveling in the ability to think.

“It’ll be better today” his gentle voice tells her,

“The swelling went down and everything is fine.

Are you hungry?”

The sweet idea of a first meal

tempts her with the promise that was lacking

at what she thought would be her last.

“Donuts”, she whispers. “I want donuts.”

She thinks only of frosting and cold Izzys

sending sugar into her veins.

When the doctor goes, the nurse remains.

She looks over at her patient, tired eyes

from a night of careful watching and prayers.

The girl knows she stayed long past her shift end

unwilling to pass off her unstable patient

to anyone who wouldn't pray.

She is upset that the girl is alone,

but the relief on her face says she can go now

and return again later to be sure.

“Thank You.” She tries to speak louder,

her dry throat and pounding head

pushing her voice away from her.

A cool cloth wipes her face for the hundredth time

but the smile is genuine now,

as she brushes the girl’s hair back from her neck.

When she goes the girl is sad

but brightens as the day shift breezes cheerily

into a no longer somber room.

The sugar smell of the donut

and the aroma of orange juice comes with her

washing over the girl in lovely waves.

“No carbonation today I’m afraid,

but Izzys tomorrow. I promise,

even if I have to sneak it in.”

The nurses laugh is like church bells ringing

and the gratitude for this small offer

touches her deep down.

The confection is amazing even in tiny bits,

the juice sweet and cold,

and the world awash with possibility.

“No more morphine if we can help it.

Motrin today.” Her voice holds authority

but reassurance as well.

The girl trusts her already and nods.

“Take my IV out?” she pleads.

The nurse considers.

“Drink a pitcher of water before dinner

and i’ll take it out before I go. Deal?”

“Deal” she readily agrees.

The door seals shut when she goes

protecting her from everything it can

that could ruin this very first new day.

Her eyes search through the window,

then sink shut in a healing sleep

all decisions waiting for another day.

Fire

Fire

The sun dawned.

The fire in those eyes ignited.

Flashed hot and alive.

Alive.

Set free to take a world by storm.

Today is huge.

Today I won the game.

Today I am new.

I was certain this day was not possible.

I have been for years.

I fought for it anyway.

Fought to the death to wear those fiery eyes.