Preparing to Departing the Doctor’s Office

Preparing to Departing the Doctor’s Office

He was saying he was sorry
the evaluation of her husband
had revealed so little left, except
this ability to copy.

She sat, ankles uncrossed,
legs parallel, spine straight,
high-heels pressed hard
against the pine-plank floor.

            Her world shifted as she

            re-calculated, prepared to move

            away with this single word intact,

            the one he deemed so deficient,
            The vibration of this single word

            going on and on, magnifying

            this one skill that might

            restore sufficiency
            They had a long journey ahead
            after the surgery and stroke
            stripped language from their air
            made comprehension
            a challenging charade.

The doctor continued to repeat,
“I’m sorry,” as she pushed back
her chair, stood to shake
his failure free.

            To the rhythm of her heels’ clicking
            she began her counting mantra,

                        one – bookkeeping is copying,

                                    two – an accountant can begin again

                        one, bookkeeping is copying,

                                    two, an accountant can…

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Journey of Days: a cinquain chain

Journey of Days

Dawn

Even
at an early
age, I knew better than
to tell a lie or try to hide
from light

Midday

As Mom
delivering
instruction to her girls
who listened more the less she says
insight

Twilight

Oma
writes now,
weaving wisps of story
into the fabric of spun dreams

for night

 

Day Break

Breakfast
together, still,

hand and hand, silent smiles

sufficient illumination

 today

 

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Maestros’ Madrigal Magical Ms

Maestros’ Madrigal Magical Ms:

 Playing with M and Ms

 

Monster moose mercifully marvels

Maudlin monkey, mandrill mysteriously multiplies

Mahogany mustang munches marigolds, mums

Muscular malamute moves most mightily

Ministers monotones, mesmerize, monopolize minds

Mouths monopolize, mummer, muddle, moan

Mullet, mollusks muskrat, mask murky meanderings

Militia mobilizes, mixing mission, mayhem, murder

Melting mountains, mounting molehills

Married moments, marauding moons, mythic madness

Maintaining mansions, misting magnolias

Mere midlife movers, mastering minds

Most mischievous, M & M’s mark Mondays

Merrily mixing memories, marshalling more

Marketing magic, medicating mates

Moody music, mandolin, meadowlark modulate

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Hello Chicago

Hello Chicago

 

there in that city

standing tall

where we round corners

on our way to everywhere

we had never known

before we failed

to extinguish all that fire

beneath our skin

 

there love began to

never end,

not even after all the cities

on our tour of years, now

our buried recollections

resurrected, live forever

bright, without regard for

days ahead, the wind, or wonder

of the other in our skin

 

Remembering Chicago

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Dreamy Solace

 

In the back woods of the sleepy bed

where silk sheeted solace waits unborn

downed pillows dream uncovered, bemoan

their paired duality and doubled monotone.

There is a trace of place some say was lent

in the back woods of the sleepy dream

where what was lent, unbidden, waits unborn

downed pillows dozily dream uncovered. Sewn

in paired duality and doubled rhythmic monotone,

there etches sketch images and magic merges.

Succor finds provision in this wooded place

where sustenance at rest, presses into day.
Dozy places trace themselves, some say,

to expose the wonder in the power sought

of time beyond the day, weary years, thin

woven silk spun lengths of lightness spread,
weathered wooden sleepers under stress

traced place erased, makes space
feathers falling weightless, flow

all alone, no wind needed to carry
Through velvet dreaming smoothing out

entanglements of thought once caught

snagged and lost in spite of what was sought

until weariness won relief in down drenched

dreams, restoring in and through the core
As snores ascend the ache of place and trace
a new beat multiplier harmonizes time

unifies and uncovers what has grown

loan satisfied, owners living comfort dream

duality, sleep on beside the other.

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Astonished at the Egg Hunt

Astonished at the Egg Hunt

 

at her childcare center,

beyond the expanse of open windows,

the children scoured the rolling lawn

where Moms and big sisters

followed

intent on helping their little ones

find the hidden colors,

gather the most eggs.

 

I remember how she

took each egg we uncovered,

ran to her friends —

one and then another —

offering them her eggs,

smiling as their baskets filled.

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Before Departing the Doctor’s Office (years ago now)

Before Departing the Doctor’s Office

I sat, ankles uncrossed
legs parallel, back straight
high-heels pressed hard
against the pine-plank floor.

I wasn’t moving yet
only calculating my direction
preparing to move out
away with the hopeless word
he thought was so deficient

He was saying he was sorry
the evaluation of my husband
had revealed so little left, except
this ability to copy.

But I had heard the word
copy, repeated copy to myself
imagined that skill might
restore sufficiency.

We had a long journey ahead
after surgery and stroke
stripped language from our air
made comprehension
a challenging charade.

The doctor continued to repeat,
“I’m sorry,” as I pushed back
my chair, stood to shake
his failure free from me.

To the rhythm of my heels clicking
I began my whispered mantra
bookkeeping is copying
an accountant can begin again
bookkeeping is copying…

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Returning from a Visit to Family

Returning from a Visit to Family

Trucks passing fast
wind whistle horns
hurrying slowness
disturbing dreams.

Miles falling back
and years of yesterdays
lost behind the fence
of time, separating.

Like highway lines screaming
stay within the bounds,
no crossing over, at least
without a signaled warning.

There is no going back
to once up on a time
and no going forward
carrying what was unloaded.

We do well to carry ourselves
drive straight, walk upright.
down, the compliment of pills
assuring memory for another day.

Trucks passing, moving fast
while we have found our ramp
escaped at last to peaceful
grass, a cozy room called home.

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Late May

 

Behind each fence a puppy

jumps up and down, its tail

wagging above its new body.

 

There are hundreds of them

in each school, and more

strolling malls and cruising streets.

Out to be seen. Rough needs.

Young ones prance, soak in

hot shot applause–

fake bone bequeathing nothing.

 

Note: written after reading Ted Kooser’s Late September, in his book Flying by Night

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Wednesday Morning at the Pond

Wednesday Morning at the Pond

Who could hold a scowl?

in the brush
of pinked-up air?

within mist rising
ghost-like
in it’s attempt to linger
over water and
a momma duck
swimming with her brood.

Who?

Who would not break,
find beneath their skin,
a grin
when footsteps send
turtles into fall-off dives,
the heron’s squawk to rise?

Who?

Not I,
not this morning

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