Worm's Journey

The air conditioner's hum,
Always the hum
Keeps me walled off
with its curtain of white noise
I miss the silence
and the gift of rainfall against my window
Reminding me of those worms
that fought to cross the saturated road
The one that's always covered in shadow
When I climb that hill
It's like I'm riding inside the Earth
as much a worm as anything
Fighting their way from one side of the narrow road
to the other
trying to find the end.
Tiny, blind creatures
rolling and scuttling along
caught in the tragedy of morning sunshine
the kind of weather that dries out roads
Still, I will veer and guide my tires
away from their pointless struggle
to split one in half
is a bad omen, I'm sure

First Life

In my first life I was a child
the memories lie
like a layer of snake skin
translucent and fragile
its pattern infinitely delicate
just an echo of who I was
It's all there
the tire swing that hung
above that patch of trampled dirt
my fear of spiders
and of my father
the way the backyard felt like the whole world
because what else was there?
I'd like to think I loved that life
but I always looked forward
to the next one
when I would be grown up and free

On being six

You are slippered feet
and uncomplicated goodness
starting to sound out the words
in your bright picture books
at once I love you
then I am you
dancing on the living room rug
spinning and spinning
until the room tilts sideways
and I fall over with it, laughing
until mommy tells me to hurry up
then I am sad
now I climb the steps
of my little yellow bus
and press my face against the cold glass
watching mommy and my house disappear
tracing the journey of a raindrop
with dirty fingers
now I am in my room
surrounded by pink
and the dolls are getting married
again
so I sing them a song
they're having a baby
they're a family, like us
they are happy
but I need to find the baby
so I make one out of felt
and Barbie's flat belly
is suddenly bulging
and I'm laughing again

Moon Series - Day 27

Waning Crescent - 8:13 p.m.

no more crescents to sketch out on lined paper
the waiting is over
except for these last two nights
but I still hold out hope
of seeing one last sliver of the moon
as if to remind me (perhaps)
that time isn't passing so quickly
I know it's a lie
another autumn's nearly gone
and with it another full moon
now I stand before the next holiday season
now I am perched
at the precipice of the first snow
now I am not quite ready
to shiver at the first frost
(already come and gone)
that left my car covered in an icy glaze
like sugar
and you wrote your name on my windshield
now we're done,
but for one more night,
so bring on the November moon

Moon Series - Day 26

Waning Crescent - 7:01 pm

By now we both know we won't see the moon
because the Earth gets in the way
but we can see our breath
and that same bright star
that might be a planet
maybe we can blow bubbles
and pretend they're the moon
or trace the crescent in the sky
with shaking fingers
as we marvel at how fast the weather turns
from warm to cold in October
this time we were there
watching each incremental phase
pull the last trace of summer from the Earth's skin
until the trees were just bones
naked and ready for a long, cold sleep

Moon Series - Day 25 (Halloween)

Waning Gibbous - 7:45 p.m.

Wherever the sky shows through
there's not a patch that isn't perfection
even though the moon won't rise
for a long few hours
even though we sit exhausted and shivering
still partially costumed
after a day of courting the things
that go bump in the night
well, that, and candy
why else would the stars put on such a show
if not in preparation for the night's finale?
the moon may light the way
for an evening of mischief

Moon Series - Day 24

Waning Gibbous - 8:16 pm

The moon, heavy lidded, gazes down from the east
too far to see at this early hour
but I remember waking up at 2 am
rolling over
and looking out the window
at the moon's lazy eye
I've lost track of the days
and the many times
that the moon failed to live up to my expectations
not that she cares
circling towards newness
I wonder if the moon ever gets tired
of her endless journey
new, crescent, gibbous, full
gibbous, crescent, new again
and on it goes
twisting eternally as the earth and I grow older
will the moon never rest?

Moon Series - Day 23

Moon Series - Day 21

That was kind of funny
all this talk of the moon
both of us writing in shadow
peering up at the sky
which still performs a magnificent show
even without the main attraction
I never noticed how artistic the clouds looked at twilight
just after a storm
with the sky a deep lapis
still bright,
perhaps cautious,
but dark enough to reveal the first few stars
glittering and faint
proving to me that the moon
can't be too far behind
If I stare hard enough into the empty sky
I might see something unexpected
like two bats fluttering towards that tall oak
that sits right at the edge of our yard.

Moon Series - Day 20

Waning Gibbous - 7:15 p.m.

Not even enough starlight
to cast a shadow
tonight the halogen lamp
that shines painfully bright,
flush against the house
is the moon
lighting up the driveway
where you sit,
capturing the threads of metaphor
we've chased down together
these last 19 days
maybe tomorrow will be clear
and we'll see how the moon wanes
as we wait for the cycle
to play out to the end

Syndicate content