Raking in the Community Garden

She picked out mulch
from the disorderly pile
I had raked out from
garden beds covered in
last fall’s leaves, carefully
returning each piece
to the beds.
Like a small steam shovel,
I continued raking the next
set of beds, making more piles;
mulch, gravel, leaves, stalks,
pulled weeds, casting a slightly
apologetic glance her way.

Celebrating Daniel

His first night home from the hospital,
we stayed up late watching him sleeping,
afraid he would stop breathing during
the night without the nurses nearby, that
somehow he would sense our incompetence
as parents and in his dismay, forget how
to breathe.
The second night, we were glad he fell
asleep so we could crawl to bed ourselves.
The third night, I think we fell asleep
before he did, although it may be that we
just entered a quasi-comatose state.
The fourth night, his grandparents arrived
and took over; I just woke up to feed him.
He grew, he learned, he played, he loved,
we loved, we played with him, we grew up
with him, we watched with wonder,
amazement, at times shaking our heads.
Eight thousand seven hundred fifty four
days later, after class, he finds
home made chocolate chip cookies in his mailbox
to celebrate his birthday.
I celebrate him.

Mullets and Braces

I told her she was beautiful.
She asked me why men don’t seem
attracted to her, all the men on Match.com
rejected her.
I said they were dorks.
She asked me how she could meet
a nice man like S.
I said he would not have dated me
if I still had super short hair, that is what
he had told me.
She said, Wow, that surprises me.
I reminded S. about that and how
men are dorks, even him, which he
regularly reminded me of anyway.
He reminded me that I had a short
mullet and braces when we started
dating.
I forgot about that.

Secret Love Affair

over dinner and drinks,
she told me she had a poem for me,
(as she reached back to caress the silky
waterproof fabric of her new jacket).
she had a confession about a secret
vice she had, that no one knew about,
(as she picked up the silvery-grey
sleeve of her new jacket to inspect
the nicely aligned stitching).
she leaned forward slightly, so as
(to ease her new jacket onto her
slight shoulders), and to tell me more
about this poem material, this secret
vice (that wasn’t so secret anymore).
she stood up (in her new jacket )and
gazed lovingly at the reflection of
(her new waterproof jacket) while
I photographed her for the poem about
her new jacket.

Old Sweat Pants

when they first met,
he wore pressed shirts and clean Dockers;
she wore mascara and high heels.
they sprayed Binaca in their mouths
before they met for dinner
and brushed their teeth before
kissing in the morning.
after a few years together, the dockers
no longer fit (he ate too many cookies),
the high heels had been given away,
they competed in farting contests after
eating too many beans for dinner,
he took to wearing her white
reading glasses with plastic flowers on
the hinges and wore dirty sweat pants to dinner.
she no longer wore high heels,
did not do a very good job of coloring
over her increasing strands of grey hair,
and only brushed her
teeth religiously when she had
to go see the dentist.
they were much happier together.

Languages

Relaxing over a glass of wine,
I speak seven languages:
Recognition, Love, Discernment,
Beauty, Friendship, Sensuality
and Knowledge.
while I sleep, I speak the languages
of Fantasy, Dreamwork and Rejuvenation,
and when I work, I speak the
languages of Perseverance, Diligence
and Learning.
we go to school to learn English, French,
Latin, Greek or Italian, still impoverished
we seek new languages that are found
elsewhere, in the embrace of a lover,
a phone call with a child, warm
between the sheets of our beds at night,
in our offices, our noses in
the pages of a book which fascinates us,
not a dictionary in sight.

Dog in Thunderstorm Season

before we could detect a sound,
dog is standing erect, ears back,
his tail arrested in space for a
moment before dog starts crying
and prancing, and we moan that
it’s thunderstorm season.
we hear something from our office,
the crackle of lightning, the building
rumbles in response.
no doubt dog has finished panic stage
one and entered panic stage two;
with no intervention in sight.
(we work by the way).
dog goes for window that once
provided escape nine years ago,
easily ripping wood window framing,
then realizing dog door is open and
easier than fully destroying the window
(again)
dog exits house and proceeds to
destroy gate
(again).
we go home to get dog before
gate completely destroyed, otherwise we
will find him outside in the park
barking at a tree
(again).