Friday, July 5, 2013


Long after nightfall, my father parks 
the Ford in the driveway of our new house, 
just blocks from Noter Dame.  
A quilt of snow beds down the rooftops. 
The street glistens with ice 
under the glow of lamplights. 
It feels like Christmas but it’s February. 
I leap from the car to the white spears hanging 
from windows, snap one with an ungloved hand, 
lift up my face to the stars, the dagger 
melting in my hand, trickling down my forearm
into my sleeve, soaking my sweater, but my gaze
stays pinned to the blaze above and my body 
starts a spin to take them all in.  Like a skater, 
I hold out my arms as if to welcome all those suns 
into my life, clutching the spear as if it were a wand. 
I forget about my cold, wet sweater and spin. 
I do not yet know the earth too spins under me, 
and so the moon and planets and sun, each spinning 
around itself, each in its own orbit around 
the others, all of us together, 
my family, the earth, the galaxies, 
all at our own paces, spinning, 
pushing into the darkness, 
where there is absolutely nothing 
until we get there.

You there, cash

You there, cash, remember how it used to be?
You played so hard to get at times, I thought
I wanted you more than you wanted me.
I made a fool of myself for you--
The things I said and did to keep you near--
Some of it I regret but honestly, most I don’t.
Marriage is a risky business. It takes time to learn
who you are and who I am and how to live together.
Hallmark may not make a card for how we feel but that’s ok,
I never knew such loving as I’ve had with you,
through thick and thin. (Remember the times
I threw my purse at you?)
Didn't we always make up to find
we cared more for each other every year?
To be honest, I cared way too much:
Shouldn’t have let you make so many of
My decisions, but it’s too late now for us to part.