Saturday, September 15, 2012


For Jasmine

i don't own this beauty
but i will protect it like it's some white and girl-sized rose
walking around in tiny shorts and a high pony tail
feet slightly turned in
still (thankfully) aware there's something for us both to guard

this ferocity is not what i expected
when i put the picture of the blue eyed pink cheeked cherub
on the box of the cassette i made her father
for he and i to make love to
this ferocity that turns itself on me
"i hate you"
and i have to remember
even though i didn't say it to my mom
i was once just as fierce
imploding not exploding
i'd rather this
than anorexia and cysts

this height, this strength, this perfectly styled hair
none of it is mine
but all of it is mine
to guard as if i am a taloned beast
with sharpened teeth

and when the lights are out
pillow feet press
into my bony shins
the hand flung out across my chest
the sleepy words

i love you

this belongs to me

1 comment:

  1. From above

    You have a girl
    you have a boy
    you have another boy.
    She's an angel
    whose wings get regular dustings
    and every so often a prayer.
    Meantime her brothers groan
    from growing bones

    so you keep getting reminded
    there aren't many days left
    until their eyes count
    your gray hairs
    from above.

    He grew two inches taller this summer
    with a darkening upper lip
    revealing an ephemeral baritone whenever he speaks
    to an adult or orders take-out
    but when he bosses his brother around
    a teen tenor.

    He took up fishing, now
    tying knots and devouring fish
    books while throwing back the catch
    patiently casting and trolling
    often reeling in nothing
    but smiles.

    Their eyes count
    tears still, though, sometimes
    from a load of homework, more often fists or taunts
    and every once from missing