outside my window

the sainted candles keep guard on my windowsill
beyond that, is Maggie street
each house a different color of the rainbow
no gingerbread houses here
the birds insist upon singing the day into beginning
I can hear them now
even as I feel my body moving toward sleep
and a day that shall be my night
later the bird chatter will give way to children chattering
scented by the whiff of newly cut grass
it is Sunday
and this week is beginning
or ending
depending on who you are

what I miss

this sweatshirt smelled like campfire
even though there’s no tent nearby
I it wore to bed to remember
our camping trip to the lake
a weekend for two
with morning coffee made over a campfire
and evening stars for story telling,
oh, I miss
not my sweatshirt
or its fainted wisp of campfire
but being alone with you, my love
and coffee by the lake

ekphrastic

the green velour of dress
was all anyone remembered;
it smelled of moss
on an Irish treasure hunt
and hung on her china white body
like a drape
of softness, alluring;
it was the color of a good chardonnay bottle
after imbibing upon it all
and rung twitterpated in the breeze with the wind chimes

of course, she was a white girl
pale and fragile
the green velour of dress
was all anyone remembered

fake news

We have a pussy.  You can usually find her in the barn.   She hunts mice, bothers raccoons, but leaves the chickens alone.

 

We have a cock.  He also lives in the barn.   He’s our only one.  He struts his stuff.   We’ve noticed he has a favorite hen, but he’s really not that particular.

 

Lately on the news, it seems, they’ll talk about our pussy, but not our cock.  Have you noticed?   What’s up with that?

hummingbird

sitting on the porch
the hummingbird came right up to me
in my red sweatshirt
seeming to look me right in the eye
or the breastbone, as the case may be
long narrow beak and whizzing wings
suddenly, I am the hunted and you are the hunter
until I remember
that I am sitting on the porch in my red sweatshirt
and you are a hummingbird;

I breathe again,
you fly away;

that was close

space

there is a space
where opposites brush up against each other
and make each other possible
like the space between music notes on a staff
played on the trumpet
where one note must end
before the other can begin;
a space where dark becomes light
a space where cold becomes hot
a space where up becomes down
a space where north becomes south
a space where I become you
and a space where you become me
a space that only God can fill
a space of infinite ending

table for two

before he took the cup filled with wine
he took the bread
he blessed bread
he broke bread
and he shared bread
saying
“take and eat” and
“remember”;

both loaves,
at this table for two
one table, two loaves of bread

loss

when I was 8

I lost my first tooth

a milestone I looked forward to

and celebrated

with pillow talk and fairies

and a quarter;

if only every loss could be

no more

than a distraction for my tongue

and an entry in my baby book

Instead of the emptiness of suffering

In a world without pillow talk

Wonder Woman Lipstick

I have Wonder Woman lipstick
and I am not afraid to use it!

I have the cape as well
but I don’t need to brag about that,
you already know.

Feminine strength
rooted in kindness
and an attitude of believing
in the best in others,
as well as an axis of evil.

I take your plotting
your palsey-walsey mask
and I engage you with suspicion
worthy of your cunning

I suggest you engage me
with similar resolve
because I already warned you
I have Wonder Woman lipstick
and I am not afraid to use it!

it is not a sin to wear pants

it is not a sin to wear pants
Mulan, St. Joan of Arc, Marinus, Pope Joan, Anne Bonny
it is not a sin to wear pants

to disguise yourself
as a man
to do the things
peculiarly
reserved for men,
it is not a sin to wear pants

to be pirate or priest
or military might
to study in university
to travel in safety
or farm on you own,
it is not a sin to wear pants

be subversive, oh, be subversive
claim what is yours
live what you dream
pave for the next generation
or mine,
it is not a sin to wear pants

one day little girls
will be inspired by you
your courage
your creativity
your persistence,
and they will wear pants
but not in disguise
it is not a sin to wear pants

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