With plaintive voice the poet sings her songs,
One morning glory roused to greet the sun,
Untwisting with the light and pushing on
The gloom with clarion diction that belongs

To those with eyes to see.  Imbibe like dregs
of poison, or instead ignore the deep
And downness of the color and perceive...

As a young girl, I had free-rein in my neighborhood.  There were no fences around backyards, and all the kids would roam from house to house at will.  But we had to be ever vigilant to our mothers’ calls.  One day, my mother called and called and called for me.  I...

In the pit of my stomach,
in my heart there's a hole,
an ache,
a fear that I've missed the mark.

                             .

 To rest in Beulah
'til...

Oh, Everett!  Forever for Everett I am!
I can't get enough of the touch of your hand.
Becoming our youngest resident present,
Everett, I find you incessantly pleasant.

Oh, Everett!  Forever for Everett am I!
Forever!  My love is an endless supply.
Eternally gaga, your Lala I am.
...

Fingers and Toes

Knit within your mother’s womb,
   wee bobbin of wooly yarn,
known but unknown until today,
  we welcome you, sweet little bairn.

From the coziest depths near your
   mother's heart forcefully propelled,
a blanket of warming arms
   awaits your...

As an adolescent I hated my feet.  I don’t know why.  Probably because I was a teenager.  I needed a place to hang a plethora of insecurities, so why not put them on my feet?  I wouldn’t even wear sandals in the summertime. 

But as I’ve aged,...

A burst of painted ladies
flit and fly around my head
carried by the vernal breeze
or violent Tehuano winds

on their migration from el sur,
twirling their colorful skirts,
pinwheels of iridescence,
in a manic Flamenco dance.

I do not have a net to catch them
(thank God!) or pin them to
a wall for my good...

                They lift
their globed bellies
nestled in their hands
as they sink slowly
below the waterline,
singing their lullabies
to the unborn bobbing
in amniotic nests. 

             ...

Lifelong friends, 1953 and 2019

Just three months older, she’s known
me longer than I've known myself,

babes in bassinets, gabbling to each other
then...now we confide, readying for bed

nestled under the covers in a city
far from either of our homes.

“What are you reading?” she...

This has been a most difficult year for my cousin Mary.  For months she had taken so much time off from her job as a resource teacher in the Naples Public Schools to take her mother to doctor’s appointments.  When Aunt Martha’s condition required hospice, she spent many days...