Oct 13

Morning Rain

Oct 13

Double Rainbow

Years ago,
shortly after you died,
there was a storm
and then a rainbow.

Mom said it was you
smiling down at us,
she said you’d be
proud of me.

This morning
as I was leaving for school
there was a double rainbow.

It was you again,
maybe with Grandpa.
Little hints of the
happiness and beauty
you brought to the earth.

Mom and I were
bathed in sunlight
and raindrops
as we took pictures.
Oct 13


This is from a memory from when I was nine so it may or may not be accurate.

I close my eyes and the colors
begin to swirl and dance.
Red circles the color of an unripe
raspberry bloom into abstract shapes
of eggplant purple.
Lines the color of dandelions
race around each other
chased by dots of indigo.
Carrot orange blobs morph into
soft peach ovals.
I am told to open my eyes
twenty minutes later.
Oct 12

Tandem Bike

It was a rusty red.
The paint was peeling 
and only one of
the brakes worked.
They squealed
whenever I used them.
The front seat was stuck
at a hight that made it
painful to ride.
My feet barely 
reached the pedals.
The back seat swung
and pivoted so she 
had to work to not
only keep us moving,
but keep herself on.

The first time we rode it
I almost crashed us into a tree.
I also lead us off the road
and down into the ditch.
We eventually learned 
how to balance the
two of our bodies
so we could fly,
although we were often
cut short because the
seat dug into my body.

This summer we looked
for it and discovered
it had been given away.
No more pivoting back seat.
No more front seat
too high to reach the pedals.
No more squealing brake.
No more peeling red paint.
No more tandem bike.
Oct 10

A Ski Season

August twenty-third
first day of school comes
eighty degrees and sunny,
it's five days before labor day
and I start praying for snow.

October fifth
just ended a week
of record breaking heat,
but I'm getting new skis.

November first
the first snow has come,
was melted by the rain
and now there's a new batch
falling to coat the ground.
I'm scraping the wax off my skis.

Black Friday
but instead of shopping
I'm on my way to the mountain.
My legs tremble in anticipation
for the first run of the season.

Christmas break
every day except Christmas Eve
and Christmas have been spent on 
the mountain. I ski in my dreams.

January third
first day of on snow training with the team.
Every turn results in 
the satisfying THWACK!
of the gate against the snow.

January tenth
I show off the bruises
Oct 04
poem 0 comments challenge: Fear

Mental Illness

You scare me.
Your knock on the door
is angry and loud
and Mom told me
not to let you in
when I'm home alone.

You scare me.
You talk about murder,
you say you see
our neighbors die,
you've threatened our workers.

You scare me.
You see things
that aren't there,
the pictures talk to you,
you speak as though
the past and present
are the same thing.

You scare me.
They say you were
the most compassionate
and funny person.
And now you can't
tell fiction from reality.

You scare me.
You used to be fine,
you used to be normal.
I am fine,
I am normal.
What if I become
like you?
Sep 29
poem 2 comments challenge: Peace

Face Wash

We fought mercilessly
over face wash.
I’d forgotten mine
and she wouldn’t
let me use hers.

There was shouting
and Mom was called.
We were both exhausted,
half a summer’s worth
of sunshine, family,
smiles, anger pushed aside,
a day forty-eight hours long
instead of the normal twenty-four.

Mom ended up making
her share the face wash
but we tucked ourselves
in angry

and then the words
poured themselves out,
a faucet left on
when the drain is plugged,
the water running
up over the edge of the sink.

The tears followed,
evidence of years’
worth of fighting,
forced peace,
and too long a day.

The ice broke and the
river flooded and
I was in her arms
and she was in mine.

Our tears no longer
held anger but
love and sorrow
for we now understood.
Sep 27


Sep 15

Frozen Breath

flying above my
childhood home was a goose
a snow goose
that blended in with 
the snow and the
clouds that dotted
the sky

the air was
the kind that freezes
your breath before it
fully leaves your mouth

it makes words sound
almost like you could touch
them and they would bristle
like the spikes of a boot cleaner

nothing about the day
was soft except maybe
the feathers of the snow goose
that flew overhead

but I like the air
that makes words sharp
and the breath freeze
almost before it leaves your mouth
Sep 13

Two Tears

Don’t cry!
Don’t you dare cry!
You are stone
you are happiness
you are not sad
you can not show weakness!
Dammit there are
People around!
People who can see you!
You can not cry!

Two tears rolled
down her face
one on each cheek
the left one slightly lower.
She bowed her head
trying to hide them.
She made no sound.

Focus on the grass
don’t listen to the words
pick apart the clovers
don’t listen to how
they died, don’t
think about her
don't think about
how she died too.
Dammit! Focus on
the grass, focus
on the clover!

The boys walked over
and sat behind
the group of girls,
she tried to discreetly
wipe away the streaks
of her weakness.
Her nose started running,
dripping out the tears
that could not
escape her eyes.
She wiped away those too.