sometimes it is more comfortable
to be folded, to be slightly bent, curled
inwards as if floating in some
unseen womb. scrunched up in the
corner of a chair or collapsed
on a couch or even on our sides
in bed with our legs exhibiting
geometry, we hide ourselves in
something like sunshine

other days the posture is
splayed, akimbo, eating as much
space as can be consumed because
we are trying to be everywhere
in such a spectacular way that
everywhere else is
a little bit jealous.

How could we have come to this place?

I guess I had romanticized

Your death

I had dreamed for

The chance

To sit by your side

Remembering us and admiring you

Even thought I might

Along with three others

Give you permission to go

I went for a walk

And had a long, long talk

I heard people

I wished it was quiet

But it was not a riot

i came back from the future
from a time when
we all live in harmony
with each other
and with the planet

it's pretty great there
but i had to come back
for the burgers

Dear God, its me

You pray aloud

Honesty

Serenity

They make you glow

Too much loss

You explain

Created a deep

Deep chasm in your heart

An extra ventricle

You tried to fill

With booze

God seemed absent

From your childhood narrative

Your sister dies

You are 10

Four years later

Your father also

Leaves this earth

“I wasn’t a very good mother.”

You state

Not as a confession

But with compassion for yourself

Decades now sober

Grown children have returned

Home

To be near you

Their mother

Any burden you carry is invisible

Your laughter

Joy at life are contagious

I just want to linger

In your presence

That dark place has been

Refilled with courage

And I am in awe

You dare to look

God in the eye

And say hello again.

Memories of pre 9-11 days

Flood me

Passing the shoe shine stand

Past the security check point

We are all on lock down now

The airport

A neither here nor there place

Bizarre stop over in our lives

But I am smiling within

That simple shoe shine stand

Always volunteering

My father ferried me to and fro

To this place

Here he would welcome me home

Standing in newly polished shoes

I stood, Vitruvian, under the nape of the cliff
amidst those dusty leaves who’ve know no direct rain.
To my right, a circular convection blows the rain slant against slant
in a curved sway
like humidity’s long wispy hair while
those leaves at my feet remain dry and undisturbed.
A plumb line would have a far better chance of falling straight.

At my other hand, stands a concave rock wall—
a left parenthesis.
And me? A parenthetical statement.

What large ocean bit this space?
Who churned day in and day out?
Who's small blade patiently carved this cast from the mountain’s side?

(I find it hardest to believe
that tomorrow does not hold the moment
when what I’ve tried to be
will be shaved down
by what trying to be that
carves me into—

so hard to believe
that I employ my own oceanic rigor
wearing today’s edges
rounder and rounder,
further and further
hastening said feared day,
patiently
carving this solitary habitat).

I am not just quite sure who I am addressing

But, I really feel I must apologize

If the glare off my exposed Winter legs is blinding

Today, I want to seize Spring

The SUN is shining, the temperature is 60 degrees

I’m wearing a skirt

Donning sandals

Showing off my newly painted toes

The way I am dressed is of great import

A desperate attempt to summon light

I have been falling into darkness

As if down, down, down a deep hole

Like Alice

I need to finally land

And leave darkness behind

I expect a life with twists, turns and surprises

Just let me land

Please let me land

In a place filled with laughter,

In a place that is illuminated.

NPM #7: The Middle

You are in the middle
You were in the middle
You will be in the middle

the lived yesterday
the living now
the unlived to come

You are always
in the middle

relish
this chance
middle’s nuance

the way the loss of loved ones
sits a little deeper
a little lighter
than previously.
how
the vow of embracing
unfolds
in the midst of this one’s
commitments
moods
weather
interactions

this middle
is not yesterdays
middle

you are not the middle
you were yesterday
or will be tomorrow

this is the gift

Welcome
to your life.

A younger, more naive version of myself

Would be shocked to see the life I now lead with you

Our lives have a pattern, there is even drudgery

But it is our routine

We alone together created it

And only you and I know its intricacies

The times I love best with you

Are rarely filled with romance

But with laughter, and even silence

Sitting settled beside you

Is now my idea of perfect love