It seems like my dad is always trying to tell me something. He died 3 years ago from cirrhosis of the liver. Liver failure. Something in my spirit always knew he wasn't going to live a long life, but it still came as a shock.Read More
Goodbye to you, dear city of mine. But first, let me thank you. Let me acknowledge how much I used to hate you and then, somehow through the years, I fell so deeply in love with you that you became a character in my life.Read More
I stood staring at the Mother’s Day cards in Target, longing to buy one. However, my mother…my beautiful, bi-polar mother has been gone…gone for several years now.Read More
No matter how sweet
they can be or might have been.
This you have learned
as you squirm under the burden of memories
of your mother rapping your head with a comb
or pinching you in church to quiet
“like a worm in hot ashes.”
For just a moment. For a moment, it takes my breath away.Read More
I long for the day when the
passing through the holes of my heart
and will crochet a thick burlap
for my old age
I think it’s true what they say you never think the last time will be the last time. You think you’ll feel their warmth forever.Read More
You told me today that you were seeing someone. It’s been two months since we’ve had a rendezvous. In total, we have spent maybe 20 days together. I’m just guessing. I don’t do math here. That’s your job.
I played it cool. I wished you well. We said we would stay in touch.
My Daddy lived with me before he died. I didn’t write during that time. I wish I had known then about how healing it can be but knowing myself as I do now—somewhat petulant and always right, of course—I probably would’ve flung aside the idea that anything could help. Besides, when would I have had time to write? Puh-leeze! I was teaching full-time, I had a teenage daughter, my marriage was falling apart, my siblings were nowhere to be found, and I was fast approaching menopause.Read More
The cooling water reflected our tiny feet
dangling over the rush of trash,
We saw the film of green as flowered mattresses
formed for the crusty leaves
scorched within summer’s lungs.