April 10 Poetry Challenge Daughterland, Part 2

” We have been wounded by it (giving)” –Alberto Rios

Giving: What it Takes

My car door slammer,
my you-don’t-get-it-you’re-too-old,
my you-should-be-home-making-cookies
my you-promised-me-you-guys-wouldn’t-split-till-i-was-out-of-the-house

My Daughter.

Full of intensity and scowl
Full of cat eyes and hoop earrings
Looking for that fight
In a red dress too tight
and sneakers to run

Looking just like me.

You never wanted me, she says.
The words leave her lips and
I watch as they fly through the air
hip pistol air
shot through to my heart if she could aim
I duck and swerve, duck and swerve
Still a couple of those shots always get through

I tell her her mama was about choices
Plenty of potential went unbirthed
A mother of choices, a mother of invention
A mother of not needing to be a mother at all
A mother not born of social conditioning.

I chose you. I choose you.
I did not have to and I gave you life.
The way one goddess births another.

She’s quiet for a moment
Looks for wisdom outside the passenger window
The rocks and the river below us
pushing and shaping the landscape.
The wildness reminding so much can change
in an moment of weakness, of inexperience.
You can slip and lose your footing.
You can wash away.

She reaches over to me. Touches my hand
with hers.
In this moment, this is all we have.

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April 9 Poetry Challenge Poetry Is

Poetry is Possibility:
Memoir-izing the day and
Dwelling in the senses
of the aftermath of living
this moment to the next.

This idea that words mean
something new
when arranged differently
specifically on a page.

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April 8 Poetry Challenge Daughter Land

Daughter Land

She reaches over and
touches my hand tells me
with her fake nailed manicured hand
that she loves me–

The year has taught me that words are fraught
as any hand that could slap and scream
I duck and cover within and wait
for what I think is the opposition

The fear that love is followed
by disdain and mockery
she is thirteen after all and the world
hers not mine

to be continued…

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April 5-7 Poetry Challenge Poems from the Notebook in the Purse

I had a few in my notebook this week that I never got out to the pages here:

April 5 A Love Poem

It is becoming real
this comfortable sync into his eyes
sync into his skin —
You are as familiar as a century
and new as yesterday–

April 6 The Wind and the Rain
Each time I think
perhaps it is this time
I remember the rain storms
and how the boulder went down
too fast to watch for falling rocks
too big to be expected
to swerve and miss.
One story. One accident years ago now.
And it’s all I think of when I drive.

April 7 The Old Friends

I remember them
playing side by side apart
from each other
for what seemed like years
only months
and now they gather at the table
without us having to
They talk into the nights
of what became
and what’s to come

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April 4 Poetry Challenge Holding on to Joy

Holding on to Joy

No, no, no–
Nuh-uh. In this moment.
This singular moment when
my heart is singing when
my mind is made up of everything
I can give—
When my voice has found an ear and
my ear has found his voice
I will hold on to this joy.
This peace of something
in a piece of something real.
That all the rest
cannot destroy.

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April 3 Poetry Challenge The Son Also Sulks

I’m taking away from his day
of nothing by forcing him to hang out
and possibly do things with me
like lunch, buying stuff for a project
I’ve been nagging him about.

Most times we exist in car rides
and me asking too many questions
to the empty headphoned air
the side eyed glance
the love you mom of force
reckon with this
my sweet brown eyed boy
who held my hand in his left
and a Thomas the Train in his right

He remembers to say Thank You
when he slams the car door
arriving as he does to anywhere
but here, but there, but with us

We both had higher hopes, higher loves
didn’t we?

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April 2 Poetry Challenge: Lassen Yard

Lassen Yard

My Mondays are full up now
with men in (a different kind of) blue
Swapping words & stories about the outside
the barbed wire world
my someday writers
my pen stealers
I look forward to the long drive to Susanville
and the 90 minutes of limbo with them
when words: poetry & laughter
can make all of us momentarily
in that classroom. Free.

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30 Poems in 30 days

Yay! It’s national poetry month! Here’s my first offering of the month.

A Tanka for Easter

We sit on the couch
before twilight–a Sunday
of drives, of history, of
lock eyed hunger and thoughts
ever drifting, ever new.

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The Sad Girl Zine Returns

Throwing Chanclas

Volume 2 , Issue 1. Now taking orders. Email me.

This issue? The Writer versus Relationship…

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Three Months Too Long

Throwing Chanclas

As I write this my daughter has not seen or heard from her best friend in three months. If you’ve ever been around tween age girls you know this is a life time. There are many tears. Many, many tears.

Sunshine did not move away. Nor is she mad at my daughter.  I miss her too. I miss how I could leave those two girls in my house and not worry. About how they’d make and decorate cupcakes together. Share plans to leave this one horse town. How they’d dance around in my daughter’s bedroom. Do each other’s hair. Make plans. Go swim in the lake or dip in Indian Falls.

Sunshine is nowhere to be seen. She’s missed every town festival. She’s never at the town pool. It’s as if she’s disappeared.

We live in Plumas County. A small county of 20,000 people. We live in Indian Valley which…

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