that's mrs. mediocrity to you

::

sometimes,

it’s simply better

not to ask.

::

they go into town every sunday
for breakfast

choosing one of two places at whim
leaning back into old familiars
smiling at neighbors old as family

he always orders bacon, she likes rye

their two hearts
have run the gauntlet
of this life this love this ritual
and survived

she makes him tea every day at 4:00
he still trusts perfect strangers

they have this land, ten thousand sunsets

and one perfect smile

between them

:

::

this post is part of dVerse poets OpenLinkNight join us!

::

more wrong than scary

more stupid than wrong

more sad than stupid.

::

we live our life in these little pockets, sets of hours when time seems to stop, or slow down long enough to let us take notice.

stolen hours, a bath, a book, a warm, late summer afternoon, the only sound is the constant whirring of grasshopper’s wings outside my window.

this was not the day i had planned, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. this was supposed to be a crazy busy catching up on work sort of day, that is what it needed to be, that is how i had expected it to be.

a migraine stopped that day in its tracks, and despite my best efforts to fight it, demanded that i give in to the horizontal.

and now it feels like i’m hiding out from the world, here on the couch, curled up in a ball with ice on my neck and nothing to do but lie here. well, actually, there’s plenty that needs doing, and my to-do list keeps popping its head around the corner just to make sure i have not forgotten that it exists.

i wave to it weakly, attempt a smile, but really, we both know there is nothing to be done. nothing that can be done until this vice lets loose its grip on my skull, this nausea passes, this fourth dimension recedes back into its proper place.

i cannot find my mind inside the pain, they have joined together to become one and the same. it’s like being held hostage by your own body.

this isn’t where i want to be, but this is where i am.

if it didn’t hurt so much, i would enjoy these imposed bits of quiet. but then again, if it didn’t hurt so much, i would never take them.

it feels like the world has stopped turning. of course, i know it hasn’t. that everywhere but here, inside my pounding head, the world goes on about its business, carries on just the way it always has, the way it always will.

but for now, i must lie here,

still.

we think we can change
who we are
alter the course
of our own
blank history
rise above
the track
we are on
split hairs
and
make deals
walk through
the end
to new
beginnings
with each step
we start again
but this
circumference
without corners
holds us in
keeps us out
fingertips
always falling
short
of center

::

::

this post is part of dVerse poets OpenLinkNight join us!

ten years later
that’s what we call it

not nine eleven oh one
not September, 11, 2001
just
nine eleven

two words

three digits

two towers

four planes

thousands

of

mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends

not statistics

falling

from

the

sky

not dates
or where were you’s

just whole hearts
in odd numbers

each one

the only necessary

evidence

of love

::

a neglected garden

offers

strange beauty.

::

Summer wound itself down faster than I expected, tomatoes still on the vine, house trim still needing to be painted, books on the shelf still waiting to be read.

Autumn didn’t spend much time trying to disguise its arrival, but rather stood up and shouted, “I am here!” For the most part, this is fine with me, autumn being my favorite season and all, but a bit more transition might be nice.

Time marches forward, step by step, and I smile and wave from my seat in the bleachers. Sometimes, when the parade goes on too long, I bury my head in a book, wrap the blanket around my knees a bit tighter, and settle in to wait for the next band, the next song, the next season.

I’m not quite ready for this one to end. Not quite ready for socks and sweaters, cider and apple crisp, pumpkins and the scent of fallen leaves. I will be ready very soon, I will snuggle into my favorite season as it wraps its cozy arms around my life.

But for now, I’m going to finish these last few pages of summer, because it is still summer, even if the temperature says otherwise. I will still be barefoot, even if my toes are a bit too chilly. I will drive to the store without thinking to bring a jacket. I will watch butterflies and hummingbirds flit through my garden. I will sleep with the windows open and the sound of crickets in my dreams.

Soon enough it will be time for Friday nights by the fire, blue jeans, flannel pajamas.

Soon enough.

But I think there is at least one more chapter filled with fresh vegetables, pretty skirts, and bird song at dusk.

And I’m going to savor every last word.

has hovered
for days now
shrouding my vision
with arbitrary
thought.

gravity pulls
on the ribbon
of existence,
unties the bow
that makes it
pretty.

i can open
everything
that holds
me

but instead
i leave that box
sitting
on a shelf
in the corner

dust-coated
to prove
i have not
been there.

::

::

::

this post is part of dVerse poets OpenLinkNight join us!

::

another

snapshot of my life

as taken by

my camera.

::