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Poetry
Getting Ready
You know where you start, but you don’t know where / you’ll end up, so never begin a trip on an empty stomach, / my uncle Enrique said, pulling into the brand-new / Wendy’s, the first in Costa Rica.
April 2012White Lady Of Once A Week
The child lolls half-asleep in the front seat. / “Why do it start and then stop?” The rain, she means. / “The clouds are banging into each other,” I tell her, / which is what someone told me when I was her age, seven.
March 2012After the e-mail saying you forgave me
It was about the time the first / poplar leaves turn yellow. / The cottonmouth, thick as a muscular arm, / slid into the water at my feet.
March 2012Lilies At Midnight
The lilies leaning from their vase, opening / their legs, their arms, even their splitting pale-pink torsos / over the kitchen table — / its clutter of bills and crumbs.
February 2012Citizens Of A Broken City
She’s shuffling around the lake in flip-flops, / pregnant belly hanging / over the open strings of her sweat pants, / and she’s shouting into her cellphone: / “You just don’t get it!”
February 2012Selected Poems
— from “In His Wallet after the Terrorist Bombing” | Three library cards, all tattered — college, city, county. / Driver’s license in which he looks about ten years old. / Grocery-store club membership cards, all bright colors.
February 2012Snowstorm
Heavy, wet snow all morning, then by noon / the clouds wrung dry, whipped away, / the sky so brilliant after the viewing / and graveside service for our youngest
January 2012Rocking Chair
I am nine years old, watching my mother nurse my new baby brother. She is sitting in the old rocker, humming a thin, sweet thread of a song.
January 2012Contemplation On Rain And Religion
I always feel more religious in the sunshine, / especially if it’s not hot and the place is pretty / and most people can’t afford to get there or just / don’t bother. Morning has broken and all that.
December 2011Last Night I Drove My Son Home
from his friend’s house, where they were filming / a movie starring my son in a love triangle. / My son, fifteen, has never been in a love right angle, / or even a love straight line, as far as I know.
November 2011
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