December Poems

Poem for Joni:


“We are waiting for a visitor.”

There is a white table
in an alley
with 2 chairs
a single wine glass
(filled with rain)
on top
(She has whispered
secrets of the universe,
infused those H2Os,
that water is
pretty potent--watch out)

The wind takes out his
pocket watch
blows it open/shut/contemplates...

Is it the season
for reasonable things?

Rain and wind wait
for their dinner guest.
The table is set.
And whispers are afoot.

For Tracie:

It must be 5 o'clock.
She dries the last dishes
delicately places them
in their individual slots
on the Value Village
drying rack they call home.

Today is the day,
she thinks,
today is the day
it will all start to make sense.
I will slowly make my way out of the labyrinth
because I can follow
this long ball of yarn that I
have carefully unraveled.

Today I will read Plath,
she is my sister.
But I will travel back
in time and save her
from herself, pull her
head out of the oven
and say ,"These are your children,
they need you.
Please stay."
And she will listen.

Today I won't dot "i's" or
cross "t's"
on purpose.

She pauses.
Brews a pot of tea
in a well-loved teapot.
Pours.
Lets the steam
caress her face.
Peers down into the cup.
Wonders if the leaves will show her a map to the stars.

For Reina:

November skies
make me think of
flying turkeys,
decomposing jack o'lanterns

(make me miss your smile)
the russet-toned leaves
parachute down
crunch like paper beneath my feet

we were young, once,
you know.

and sometimes life wooshes by
terribly fast
and I feel like a crumpled autumn leaf
but I know
that if you found me
in a big pile of oranges, golds and crimsons:

you would pick me out from all the rest
and press me between the pages
of Neruda or Dickinson
and I would live happily ever after
inside those poems.