Thursday, August 25, 2016


I'm so small and all
I see around me is so big.
I dig and dig and dig

for a mustard seed of faith in me
to sprout;
can't find a twig.

How am I supposed to move
that mountain
great and tall,

when I'm so small
so very small and all?

For Marian's prompt at Real Toads

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

I Wonder

Every early morning,
I watch light cure the dark;
still, I wonder if there is a god.

I have opened my body
to seed and seeking fingers,
have arched into teasing tongues;
still I wonder if there is a god.

I have stretched skin inside myself,
safe guarded a soul into the world.
I bear the mark of connection on my belly still;
I wonder.
I wonder.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Shallow (Under The Skin)

Turn me inside out
and all you'll find
is leftover whine
(I need more rest)
and a heart blood hope
that thrums my chest -
what's next

has got to be better.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Ugly Americans

Pissing in the streets,
lying to police,
cover of the scandal sheets -
the best the we could bring
to the games?
Oh, the shame!
Ugly Americans.

For Kerry's "not what we came to see" prompt at Real Toads.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

This Dream Is Fraught With Meaning

The road is straight enough,
but it needs work.
Cars rough and tumbleweed
to stay between the ditches.
A billboard leans in the wind;
cracked, peeling, but constant
in my passenger side eye.
This Dream Is Fraught With Meaning
in Comic Sans.

"You know that much about music?" he asks.
I don't care for his tone,
his insistent hands,
or the crush of his too shiny boots.
Why, yes, I do, friend.  That and more.
I know that a waltz is not a two step
no matter how
you dust the floor.

For Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

That Sleepless Summer

of heat and grieving,
it wasn't enough to nurse my mother,

I also had to make sweet to her cat -
a leonine, lacking in all social graces
ragdoll named Annie.

Annie slept with her claws out;
spit, hissed, and scratched
at passing bare feet;

curled atop my mother's chest
and dared my efforts at care.
I hated her,

and she hated me, the intruder.
But as mama faded,
more and more often

I would wake from my rocking chair doze
to find that cat in my lap purring comfort;
she knew, I know, that loss was close.

Close to both of us.
Close as a shallow breath to silence.

For Midweek Motif ~ Cats at Poets United

Sunday, August 14, 2016

A Life


A life.

A man on the moon.

Gone too soon.

Oil boom and bust.

and farming
and working too much.

Loving hard.
Loving unwise.
Loving reckless with wide open eyes.

Nine One One.

Wars undone.

Wandering lost.
Wandering home
to the arms of her savior.
Dates carved in stone.

A life.

For my mother.  

Submitted to Poetry Pantry at Poets United