I write after the children and cats are asleep
and the news slows like a clock needing winding
in an age when most time is measured digitally,
and whispered to satellites so it is always right.

I need to wait for meter, lackadaisical
and beyond this ticking down like a cooling engine
of each possible minute I might find a voice
where instead I am cutting chicken
or peeling potatoes

Its not true that all writers who are women
are childless.  We are here
but guilty of living in sips and gasps
inside that room of one’s own
that is actually a linen closet
where poems whisper as we fold towels and maybe
if we are lucky enough

we remember the words
when time allows.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 11 Comments

The new thing

The new thing’s not cloth so beautiful
only the 1% can see its shimmer
and its not cake sweet in one slice
while the rest is cardboard construct
its everything

not in absolute but swing.
We have different sets of fact
instead of simple opinion
like plain plates for family suppers
and Royal Daulton for company
but all the edges are gilt
skimmed over relativity,
our flexibility bending jointlessly
and against anatomy

The emperor
simply faked a set of clothes.
we’re doing so much more than that.
Pulling prosperity from air,
renaming success from bankruptcy
and we’re doing it with ideas
too large for our small heads.

If we speak it, it is so.
If we stay silent, it never was.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

today daylight

today daylight
smaller than hope

(that bitch knows
we have ahead of us
a season of ice
short days

blue shadows

angled light

but I’ll gladly add
the seconds to
an appreciable difference)

time is like that
a change so subtle
never violent

though it is a thing
that kills.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

scar quadrille

scar–that shine on my shin from a fall
off my bicycle
the red curve under a belly
that birthed children
and a calligraphy of scratches

these are proof of passage
through a world
that marks us forever in blood.

Posted in dverse poetry prompt, New Free Verse | Tagged , | 36 Comments

How the light gets in

for LC

I was going to list your loss
as the topper
to a very bad week–
first America
and now you

but your words
listened to with eyes closed
say you would have waited for this

eager, open to the possibility
of more direct wrestling
with angels.

Maybe this crack
in my skin
in my heart
in my hope

is not me mourning

but simply opening
to incandescence

I would rather live lit
than broken.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Lackawanna, burning

Bethlehem is burning
it must be a metaphor
for this city
this life
this politics
sending ash into eyes

almost like  smoke
other older factories striped into sky
at scheduled intervals

but this black startles
seen from my ridge
20 miles away
a line of charcoal
interrupting a watercolor sunset

we roll up windows
and drive through it
the stink and haze filling streets

memory is toxic
especially breathed deep.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , ,

100 kA over 80 seconds

I have no patience
for saints
or ministering angels

Instead let my life
the work and power of it
be testimony enough

fast and deadly
as lightning in a June garden

Posted in life, New Free Verse | Tagged , | 2 Comments