My pal Deb needs a picture of me

for my avatar on read. write. poem. She needs a good one, not the circa 1988 pic she borrowed from my facebook page! Egads! So I'm uploading these for her to pilfer. I like the one above of my daughter. She's way cuter! Here ya go, Deb!

Fire Alone Can Not Burn: a marriage

will spontaneously combust
similar to the lone man on a mattress
discovered in ashes one bright afternoon, after eating
(apparently) leftovers packed by the skinny waitress

Sunless Morning

The snow is white enough
to convince grand sun to take
the day off. Thin green needles
protest. They are not loud enough.
See the clouds? It’s not their fault.
Slick soled sneakers slap
cold pavement. We are not warm.
At school, teenagers drag wool scarves
through black slush. Someone wipes
a runny nose with stiff polar fleece.
Somewhere war continues
in bright sunlight. A picnic kind of day,
a day to write home about.

In An Effort to be More Spiritual While the Children Watch Disney

She Prays Like Wonder Woman


This is what I would like strangers
to say about me. She is a prayer

How To Soften Your Hands

I would wash dishes until my skin peeled off in ragged rinds
if only my plates and bowls would squeak,
you are happily married.

..........The husband shovels tunnels around
..........the shuttered house
..........waiting to be rid of the hungry horde.

*************************************************

I wrote this in response to Carolee's poem which she wrote after we played with Anne Sexton's poem Her Kind. It's sort of a letter poem.

Process note: I wrote it first without the snow and the husband, and ended with the pretty bowl. The husband wormed his way in. Should he stay?