Mon amie, Cecile

I loved the leaves, and I want her panniers

We talked of many things, no words unspoken

of loss and love, of life,

little ones who have grown big,

still annoying.

I love Cecile, I love her bike, 

I want it and her basket up front,

the home made accessories, but mostly I

want to bask in the light of her smile.

what endures

I look like my brother, the one who leads by 3 years

the same grey, wrinkles, the lopsided jowl, the 

nose that tells my age even though I don't know why.

but the eyes!  the eyes are alive!

the crooked smile, the mischievous look!

these will endure as long as we walk 

on this blessed Earth.

Random word #4: Lonely

 

It's the theme of my life, this loneliness that seems to part of my genetic code

passed down from grandmother to mother to me, I see her in her pale blue dress

lying on her back, cigarette smoke slowly curling upward

and

my mother sitting on the backyard with her dissertation materials,

only jumping to attention when Marc hit his head on the concrete pad.

I didn't exist

which is perhaps why lonliness is in my genes, but also in 

my experience.

Random word #3: Sugar

 

Sugar baby, I love you, too, honey, in that

hot and sweet coffee, rich and dark, sugar baby, in my cookies and cakes

sugar baby, the hummingbirds love you they whir around the feeder

while I look on, sugar baby, not the fake stuff, only the sweet granules 

that tell my body I'm sweet, too, sugar baby, I'm sweet too.

Random word #2: Write

 

Write....

Anything, at anytime, anywhere

in your head, on your palm on the 

sole of your shoe

read it again and learn who you are

where you were, what you thought,

or never read it again

Ever.

A random word #1 - sensitive

My index finger landed on "sensitive".

I am that word, should tattoo it across my forehead

for all to see, to consider treading more softly 

allowing me to whisper a few words in the quiet

her skin is sensitive, that of a baby, quick to redden,

and yet I search for other sensitivities,  finding none

I notice my own where are the others

open the eyes and see

Owen Julian McKinnon

 

Owen launched like a rocket into this world a year ago

and left us so few months later

our grief now interwoven into our quotidian lives

I held him four times, count them, only when he was on the "end of life" list

how those words landed will always be remembered

and now what

we keep going, I guess, and we try again

to welcome a baby, a perfect one, who carries in them

Owen's spark.