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.