Monday, September 27, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
it goes as follows: fall garland i made to celebrate that it is officially fall (!) plus sweet, cross-stitched horse from the salvation army, the evolution of a friday night in, delicious cookies i made to drop off at the assumption church tomorrow for Bellingham Community Meals , and lastly, but most lovely, my handsome bird Royal.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Today, everything happens
The poached eggs harden
as the bread pops.
The fan stops
as the shower drains.
The sky darkens,
as five crows fly over.
We woke at the same moment
and reached for each other.
It is the synchronicity of today
that I adore:
two mouths opening at once
to taste the benedict,
as it begins to rain.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
sent this brooch and some of my own handmade pumpkins to mom and dad today. lately i just want to light a pumpkin scented candle, watch madmen, and make autumnal crafts. sigh.
this will look good on my mom's florist apron this season. for christmas it will be anything but a poinsettia.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Two Times I Loved You the Most In a Car
It is not so much that I miss you
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Hours of Myself and Your Memory
For my grandmother
With him gone all day at work,
and your things everywhere,
in the new apartment I am more
alone than I have been in years.
Your quilt over the back of your couch,
your embroidered cloths in the kitchen,
your linens, your jewelry, your broom.
Your dustpan even.
I hung one of grandpa’s photos
of you in the entryway. There you are!
Trim, in black, a fish in one hand,
your face straight, unreadable, queer.
In another room, you are a just a girl
with braids on her head, nursing
a badger with a bowl of milk,
the chickens scattered around.
Outside there is music and traffic.
On hot days we went to the ferry docks.
You talked of everyone but yourself
and when I grew up, you seemed old.
We always think we will have time,
of course I didn’t get enough. I got your things.
Alone in the apartment, I sweep
the floors, prepare salad dressings,
wait for the new loneliness to break in,
to fit me like your well worn boots.