The Girls Hair Suite

The Girls Hair Suite

Movement One

I have her hair in my hands,

thick and soft as it winds through

my fingers

twisting in this pattern

that I have done thousands of times.

I did the math,

it must be 4,000 times at least.

I could do it in my sleep,

i’m pretty sure I have.

If I died of dementia

the thing I wouldn’t forget would be this.

Movement Two

I have her hair in my hands.

Long, blonde, thin,

running slippery in my fingers.

It’s a complicated dance.

Her baby fine hair,

after all these years

still so rebellious

never wanting to stay.

Tiny wisps escape my grasp.

I am endlessly tucking them in.

I need light to braid this hair.

She chatters on my lap.

I have done this thousands of times,

At least 3,000.

Movement Three

In the dark morning

before regattas

I have braided this hair.

Before airplanes and coaches,

busses, car rides

and trains.

Lunch time when it’s fallen out.

Late afternoon before a party

or a dance,

or beside the pool.

In the evening before dinner out

after a carefree day

of unbrushed hair.

At night after a bath

before sleep can tangle it

into endless knots and snarls.

In the middle of the night

to keep it back from a sick childs face.

Movement Four

Left long and sleek

and brushed to shine

for parties.

Braided in reverse

in the long rope that stays dry

in a sailboat.

Braided flat to fit under a

ski or bike helmet.

Double braids keep it tight

during a gymnastics meet.

Pony tails to fight off snarls

when swimming.

Braided crowns for

christmas parties.

Tidy bun to hide the banned kool aid red

during school.

Tiny binders galore to create

the bridal veil style

you wanted to audition in.

Braided into a heart for Eric's wedding.

Twisted so grown up for orchestra concerts.

Pigtails for kindergarten,

tiny veil for first communion,

tumbling curls for prom,

and graduation.

Movement Five

Your hair smells of

soap,

of peaches,

of leave in conditioner,

hair spray,

dye,

warm sunshine,

sharp snow,

chlorine,

chalk,

sweat,

basil,

cinnamon.

Movement Six

Someday I would like to

do your hair for your

proms,

graduations,

weddings.

Movement Seven

Someday I would like to

braid your children's

hair.

Ought

Ought

There’s a poem I want to write so badly

but I dare not.

It pulls at me till my mind aches

with it’s dangerous plot.

Memories of wild ecstasy

I cannot blot.

Camera and water erotic

in my favorite spot.

Bodies wrapped tight

in a luscious knot

skin against burning skin.

it is my lot

to keep desperate moans

held in this slot,

where taste and touch

must go to rot

because you fear

these words I jot.

Decadent

Decadent

Sunny morning

Bright and alive

Sings to me it’s lullaby

Drowsy summer

Nothing but time

I lay here writing this little rhyme

Cut grass breeze

Tinged a rich coffee brown

Heat infused sheets all around

Soft mussed up hair

Brushes my cheek

A languid sigh is all I speak

Lack of alarm clock

Leaves no guilt

For legs still wrapped around my quilt

Painted hands and

Painted feet

Still heavy from a blessed sleep

I would get up

I really try

But soon I drift and close my eyes

And heed the summer lullaby

My Goal

My Goal

Six breaths a minute.

That’s the goal.

Slow down,

There’s no oxygen getting to your brain.

You can’t think this way.

Six breaths a minute.

Breathe in and count to five slowly,

breathe out to five.

Take your time.

She doesn’t see the colors I see.

On the backs of my eyes

they bloom like a fantasy ride

through a wormhole,

a rainbow colored slide

into anywhere I want to be.

Take your time she says.

I’ll take my time.

I see water and beach in my mind.

The water is pink,

like Pink Lake in Australia.

White sand beaches,

and sun

warm warm sun.

Breathe in to five

Breathe out to five.

Sometimes I see lake superior.

Endless black/blue water.

Beaches of rocks as far as I can see.

Waves pound the shore,

towering pine trees line the coast,

and sun

warm warm sun.

Breathe in to five.

Breathe out to five.

Then I see the gulf of Mexico.

A lush palate of greens,

sand and sand and sand

upon shells and shells and shells.

Water so clear I can see the fish under my clear boat.

And sun

warm warm sun.

Breathe in to five.

Breathe out to five.

I see the atlantic next,

rolling deep midnight blue waves,

always coming and coming.

Hundreds of tiny shells.

Some are pulverised in the ceaseless curls,

the rest like precious treasures.

And sun,

warm warm sun.

Last time.

Breathe in to five.

Breathe out to five.

I see Coronado.

A beach of crushed shells,

Long thin strip of land not yet claimed by the sea.

Deep turquoise liquid lapping at my toes,

gulls overhead calling me away

drowning in an endless supply of fresh oxygen

rolling off an emerald blue ocean

in the warm warm sun.

I take my time.

Walking Alongside the Night

Walking Alongside the Night

Inspired by the refrain for  “I Will”

“Watch you walk into the night, I will.

Let you find your way to light, I will.

Hold you while your soul takes flight,

I would, I do, I will.”

I will treasure this one moment.

I will stay in it.

I will not wander off into the land of fear my mind creates.

I will concentrate on this child in front of me.

I will hear her voice.

I will lay aside my sorrow.

I will lay aside my exhaustion.

I will lay aside my frustration.

I will force myself to laugh.

I will be.

I will not be distracted.

I will not be angry.

I will find pleasure in her.

I will banish every thought but her.

I will soak her in.

I will give her myself.

And it will be enough.

Joy

Joy

Across the table from me

she squeals while he explains the rules

one more time

which work to her advantage.

Her sister rolls her eyes.

Cards fly,

groans erupt,

laughter spills over

and I light with a feeling i haven’t had

since they all left a month ago.

I am grateful for this moment in time,

all of them safely here with me at last.

Slam

Slam

The door slams nearly breaking

the glass window.

I can’t believe I just did that.

The yelling continues.

Well, that part I earned.

I tried.

Worked so hard to keep that me tied down.

Tried to walk away.

I hate that I failed.

I hate that I can win for so long,

but in one moment everything is destroyed.

How can I ever say that it will never happen again?

But I am expected to live up to that.

I was, until you decided I wasn’t.

So long.

I have been in control for so long.

Even when I do not want to be.

Even when it makes every kind of sense for me not to be.

But I must stay in control at all times

or I am a failure.

Suddenly I am reminded

that you still expect failure,

are always watching for it,

always waiting for it.

So I must be perfection.

I am always on trial.

Today the trial is to see if this little experiment was worth the price.

What if I fail?

I will have wasted everything we had

for nothing.

The pressure of it is totally and completely binding.

I feel like the biggest drain on this whole family.

I also know that as long as I live

I will always be on trial.

And I wonder,

Did I really earn that?

I guess the door slammed shut on my

freedom eons ago.