The Poetry Marathon

we ran out into the field of green grass
with small white flowers that were
scattered everywhere like stars on a summer sky,

tripping with laughter,

in bare feet and yellow sun dresses
that our mother made on grandma’s
sewing machine.

you said, i can fly!

and i said, show me!

we ran some more, until our legs gave out,
and we bumped into each other like blind butterflies.

we laid down in a patch of grass
that crunched beneath our bodies,
turned onto our backs,
held each other’s hands,

and flew.

this earth doesn’t belong to me
this sky is not mine
these trees –

these trees that sway in the sun and
shake their leaves with laughter –

they are my cousins,
my aunts, my uncles

the family i always wanted.

your eyes, your smile,

your endless chatter

that sounds like bird song

my child.

I know this isn’t what you wanted

and i’d like to say I’m sorry

I didn’t fit

into your mold of what a woman

should be.

Quiet, demure, barefoot in the kitchen.

That woman doesn’t exist

on any planet.

I see your pain

over the loss of the idea

I was the ONE

to lay down for you,

the woman who would take your arm

and be beautiful, as a rainbow

every day of your life.

and for me to set the stage of togetherness

so you wouldn’t have to,

and to keep the passion fires

roaring for your pale, scentless body.

I’m walking away now, from this place,

from you.

for me.

I’ve not participated in any sort of marathon, except perhaps sleeping! I am a “sometimes” poet, writing herds of poems for days and then months can go by without a single word. So this will be a true challenge for me.

The city of Seattle is my home, and I live in the neighborhood of Ballard, where Norwegians and boats are aplenty.

Nature and my imagination are my muses. And of course, the love of words.

Good luck to us all!