Beautifuldreamer
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Fast Girls
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The three sisters across the street
live with their divorced mama.
They wear cool outfits,
flipping long ironed hair ove…
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Blank Ceilings
You stole summer from me
on the wrinkled bed
you shared with my mother,
as your eager fingertips explored my depths,
forging new trails into my being
to which you would return, like hidden… -
When First We Found Our Voices
When first we found our voices
they were cartoonish mouse squeaksearning us raised eyebrows and smirks.
We were not a force to be reckoned with, not yet.
First the squeak must give way … -
Giving Up Midge
While helping my sister unpack from a recent move, I unearthed a plastic arm hidden beneath a pile of worn dish towels.
“My Midge doll!” I cried. “I didn’t know you had her.” Fondly I studi…
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Night Lies
My lover sits hunched
his naked back a mute plea for attention.
I rake careful nails over golden skin still warm from lovemaking,
my exotic mind plotting excurions my feet will never know,
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You Speak Poetry
You speak poetry liquid as fragrant tea poured boldly
from your steady hand.I sip at your words, savoring the sweetness of each syllable
and swallow smoothly the rhythm of each verse
jea… -
My Native Colors
My brother Max plays bass guitar in a country western nightclub, south of Chicago. His six foot something lanky frame stoops over the instrument, like he’s peering down at it with parental conc…
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Doreen, Doreen
But my stepsister, the kleptomaniac—-oh, the pain
of not getting you back whole,
and loved this time . . . -
Portrait of an Artist's Daughter
I stalked your deft shadow, never guessing
that your colorful abundance was not meant for me . . . -
Serenade
Bobby Matthews motions for me to join him on the piano bench of his shiny baby grand. Entranced, and puzzled by his attraction to me–for at 10 I am scrawny and knobby-kneed, with hated freckles…
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Drifting
I seem to have lost my way and I don’t know why. I’m in what I call my drifting mode. Drifting through my days with no particular direction or destination, I find myself lacking whatever it wou…
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Everything I Know About Deformities
There are times when I know without doubt that it was he who was the freak, not me.
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Moon River
My third grade teacher, Mrs. Gunderson, was tall and gawky with unflattering glasses, and a dramatic bent.
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Mother of Five
Baa baa mama
have you any sons?Yessir, yessir
tons and tons:One for my comfort
One to keep me sane,
and more than enough to smear my window pane. -
Debut
I’m wearing your resentment
mother,
a garment woven strong
seam-stitched
with the deceptively fragile thread
of your incalculable anger
at my existence.The hem trails long;
I trip an… -
Potential Poet
Oh mother nurture that little girl’s dreams
as childish and insignificant as they may seem:For her jumprope chants may merely be
the prelude of a rare gift for poetry. -
King of the Mountain
It is only when I am earthbound once more that my heart cries out in anguish . . .
