Category: trauma
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Up early
4 am, up early, I have things to do before I drive a friend to breakfast, help him get in an out of his wheelchair so he may see old friends, visit old haunts and see the waitresses he used to flirt with and who flirted back. I wish I could do more; I wish…
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Voices
When I was a child my conscience would talk in my father’s voice I didn’t recognize self-hate as my own Now I argue with the voices, take ownership and try to change 4-15-25
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Reading the news
some days I feel like I may survive the calamity, if those who want to heal me would use love, instead of lacerating my arms and bleeding the world’s sickness from my veins 4-3-25
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Mini-ice-age
(The prompt for a monthly workshop I host was ‘Sediment’. I don’t often do rhyming poems, but as I wrote my poem several rhymes appeared naturally so I went ahead and made the rhyming scheme uniform.) Beneath the sky As ancient whispers blow cold, Glaciogenic breaths take hold, Mountains carved with frozen scars, Etched by…
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Reading Anne Frank
I wonder what became of the family who hid Anne Frank in an upstairs room I wonder if one of my siblings or a childhood friend would have turned her family in and gloated as they were hauled away I wonder if I would have the strength of character to say, “No More” 1-29-25
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The end is the beginning, is the middle, is the end
My father was always concerned with the now, with what I’m doing with today with not wasting time in pursuit of frivolous things. When my first book of poetry came out, he told me on the phone that he read my book and he didn’t think much of it. At the end he spoke of…
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mount up and fly
you don’t need a pin through your abdomen or gutted and stuffed by taxidermist to prove you are a special being and in danger of becoming extinct mount up and fly while you still can 12-9-24
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Chicken Little
sky falls on red sundown red fox licks his lips blue Wednesday morning Henny Penny screams the end is near shades of trauma prism light x and y of politics, accidents of birth world spins red, then black and back to blue do not fear children’s fables in the dark, zombies eat their own let…
My husband's poetry 