The night before poetry class

the last day of lazy writing
lounging at the dinette, looking
at dirty dishes lamenting their status,
languorous flakes of snow backlit
by streetlamps, learning about
alliteration so as not to
display my ignorance
late tomorrow
night.

New Zealand Poem III: Swimming up a wall

Defying gravity swimming up a wall
he glides effortlessly on his green air mattress,
spotless dry blue floral trunks, arms
outstretched towards the sea several hundred
kilometers distant he is unperturbed by it
all gazing out through his dark sunglasses
at the crowds which stare incredulously at his
perfect feet, his on-time wristwatch; they wonder
if he is happy.

A Yoga Pose

I am thankful it is dark.
Everyone is looking forward
towards the teacher who is drenching
us with instructions for
the next pose.
I fall over in the back,
emitting a small wince as
I step onto the edges of my
blocks and the buckle of my strap.
My next pose lags well behind
the others until the end when
I catch up quickly for the final
savasana.

The Boss

he emerges from his office like a bear
 from his winter den,
grouchy, hungry and mean,
loose skin once filled with the
fat of summer berries and sunshine.
he pushes past the sow and cubs into spring
rising on hind legs to reach the choicest
bits until his manager saunters along
and he shrinks back in cowardice.

A Boy

he gets away with everything
dishes left unwashed, spilled milk,
strawberries squished on the linoleum leading
to a trail of red splotches across the living room,
annoying dogs, stains on his sweater.
he just smiles, exposing that gap
between his front teeth where a
piece of Dutch licorice would lodge
itself from time to time as he ran
home from kindergarten to greet
his mother.

New Zealand Poem III: Mother's Daughter, Daughter's Mother

in common, they share
freckles, a toothsome grin, a yen for
science, bossy and opinionated, short and
curly hair

where on distant glaciers
in far off lands, one arm flung across
another’s shoulders, they touch
while maintaining the required
distance of that age

New Years Resolutions

she pondered losing weight,

he pondered learning a new language
for travels he would never take,
dreaming about them in that place
between sleep and wake,

she pondered telling him she loved him,
being a better person, and cooking
coq au vin for Valentine's Day,

she decided that touching her toes
(without bending her knees)
was good enough for next year.

no sense in promising the impossible.