I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.
My dad was an inveterate theatergoer in the old country where theatre reigned supreme before the Soviets, under the Soviets, after the Soviets.
and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub
at the Assisted Living Place
Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped
I eat my Oreos with relish. No—I mean I relish in the Oreos I eat.
Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat
On the first day of our new life together, my husband realized that I was not interested in theoretical debate. He said it was okay by him and went out to get some pancake mix.
We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.
I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.
In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote
Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.
No matter how you try to ignore it, you look like him. You look like your father.
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt
I count my homes—
those of my scattered youth
the sanctuary of our young family
the intermittent rest stops
of apartments and vacations.
I am in Rite Aid buying ChapStick and diapers, when people start washing away in the rain.
I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster
how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?
Could someone hating you really cause a physical unease? Sure, why not.
this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to
Vistas from the American Southwest, catching the light and design in all its strangeness and beauty.