366 Days: I Won't Forget

Love the ghost woman
who lives lightly there
inside of you
like a cool velvet-green lake.
Skim stones on her surface
circle wide around 
the child you hold too tightly.
Enter the disintegrating shelter
on a timbered trail,
devour the porcelain windowpanes
celebrate the mountains of freedom
you chose.
Answer with a blush.

366 Days: Roots (Day 135)

Roots
The springtime rain is falling
and the road is filled with longing.

I realize, this is such a worn cliche.

But when you love with wild abandon

sometimes you are left standing

underneath a wilting apple tree.

The fruit falls bruised and battered.

Your fragile heart is shattered.

But the roots, the roots will set you free.

366 Days: Still Here, Still Writing

Childhood, 1934

Do you remember our childhood?

There was the empty schoolyard.

There was a gnarled dogwood tree, white blossoms,

smell of brushfires scenting the air.

It was hot that summer,

sweltering, you bent before me

writing secrets on the dusty ground.

Late evenings cooled off.

Daddy brought us ice chips

and laughed at the chickens, clucking and pecking.

Yes! How could I forget this? Yes!

We were girls together.

Dripping beads of water, tasting dust.

We saw the sun going down. Going down.

Watching our mother’s back

as she waltzed away.

Forgive her.

Forgive us.