She faulted him for his constancy.
A lunchbox of a man
thoughts and deeds, past and present,
separated in small rectangular spaces
Continue Reading »Bleak as the splat of the just-fed bird’s dropping
on my lime green dress of cashmere
whitish liquid dripping its way down
what had been a rarely achieved
elegance. Omens are no rival for blindness.
That royal raven chased me out of its court
sent me running, frightened and foolish,
sure it was happening, unsure I wasn’t making up
a story to tell later, the foreshadowing
we count on, the crumb trail link to the next time
this flawed heroine fled an angry squawk, staining
far more than a sweater dress that warm spring day.
Posted in Birds, Leaving, Pacific Northwest | 2 Comments »
Daffodils bow their heads, shyly pour their golden silence,
evade the prying lens, beckon human eyes of the very young,
beetles and squirrels scurrying below, those willing to lie down
on moist cold dirt to peer inside, past the attention-seeking stigma
to the hushed ovary, protectively hidden, the seed-bearing life-giver
we charge past, ignore until the day we slow down,
allowing ourselves to move at the pace of the bloom.
Posted in Flowers, Seasons, Women | 2 Comments »
That night of the thick fog, razor-sharp winds, the sky and ground the same
dull, impenetrable gray, my fingers and toes, cheeks and ears unable
to discern temperature, pain signals tapping an indecipherable morse code,
dots of panic, dashes of resignation. I couldn’t see any way out.
Continue Reading »Posted in Caves, COVID-19, Existential, Isolation/Belonging | Leave a Comment »
– For José María García Payán, El Sueño de Julia
The wash machine is next to the fridge. It is in Spanish,
but you will figure it out.
The light over the stove doesn’t work but there’s a nearby bulb.
Continue Reading »Posted in Painting, Spain, Travel | 2 Comments »