I can’t breathe
So I write poetry

Barbie lost a shoe

I found it in a parking lot
dirty with grit
One tiny pink sneaker shabby from the settled dust
of countless cars
and passersby Continue reading →

Today a bunny hopped across my deck
and paused to peer in through the window
My husband was at the stove, stirring hot chocolate,
and that’s what the bunny saw
presumably Continue reading →

I do not know how old our redbud was.
I know I have no memory of my childhood home without it,
and no memory of it small.

I remember countless days playing beneath it,
gathering its long pods into piles,
thinking them debris,
ungrateful for the miracle of life they held within. Continue reading →

Just when I thought the day had nothing left to give—
when I thought I could write a poem opening with sadness,
loss of hope, lack of hope, despair, emptiness,
or maybe simple ennui
(though no simple prospect, that)—
I found I couldn’t capture that darkness,
couldn’t plumb that depth,
had to stand on the summit of joy and cry out happiness. Continue reading →

I have had my son in my life
twice as long
as I had my father.

My husband, thrice.

I’ve been motherless longer, too.

How long is grief?
How long sorrow? Continue reading →