Halloween delights me
the tricks and treats
the haunting stories
kids in costumes
and, of course,
ugly bugly’s mischief.

the most intriguing part to me
is midnight
when the strike of the clock
glides us seamlessly
from the horrors to the saints

they are barely perceptible 
in their goodness
against the backdrop
of that spectacle of spooky fun

maybe its because of 
the religious constructs 
wired into my brain 
by too many nuns
but as the day ticks by
thoughts move from
the famous saints of my youth
to the anonymous saints of my life

We all have them
the ones who bless us with
their kindness
their forgiveness
and their love

maybe its because of
the philosophical constructs
wired into my brain 
by too much reading
but as the years tick by
thoughts move from
anonymous saints
to an irresistible call 
to become one

to be kinder
more forgiving
and more loving

in my life
it’s after midnight

At dinner, my husband said
the squirrel who lives in our tree
was building a new nest
in the big silver maple across the street

he watched her off and on through the morning
running single-mindedly
to erect her new home
with focused fury

after lunch
she was moving her babies
one by one
to their new nest
frantic to conceal
her secret family

when he was gassing up the mower
he saw her again
panic like a stone in his throat

she was splayed
in the middle of the road
her outspread limbs unmoving

he watched her for a bit in sadness
wondering if his small shovel
was in the basement or the garage

then as if it was a prank
she sprang to her feet
and bounded up the tree

she’d been drained to the bone
from building and babies
and pushing every second
to make life happen

after giving her all
she’d crumpled
where she stood
exhausted

he told me
that squirrel reminds me of you

There is an unnaturalness to the way we live
endlessly showing our bushels to the world
so our day’s harvest can be tallied

in storms, drought, mud, snow
we are forever reaping
we despair at our half empty basket
as if this ache in our bones
is judgment and penance

there is another gentle way
that befriends the sunshine
cherishes the rain
and cherishes the fallow

what if we yielded to our bodies
to nature’s cycles
to the wisdom of the universe
and allowed ourselves to lie fallow

our depleted bodies rested?
our depleted fields abundant?  
would our depleted souls restored?

the harvest is an event
greed has made it a lifestyle

Like a sprawling picnic blanket
this immense wood box on our back porch
offers a spread of grapes
graham crackers
and lemonade

it’s massive enough to fit both of us
as we straddle
this after-school snack
and gossip about her day

she says of all the girls
she’s the fastest runner
when the class was racing
she almost beat the fastest boy

her teacher is really nice

when they broke off in pairs to play a game
she won on her last turn
her friend said she cheated
but she didn’t

I can tell it still stings
so I try to love away her hurt

she won’t remember
the race
the game
our talk
the box
the lemonade 
the grapes

but the feeling
of simply being together
left a faint kiss 
on both our hearts

maybe when she’s grown
she’ll wonder
why graham cracker crumbs
make her miss her granny

legacies are not blossoms
they’re seeds

He fearlessly speaks his truth 
with the daring of the dying

he writes his mind and shares his heart
as if invisible, untouchable

controversial, clever, and witty
manifesting the unexpected 

who is this remarkable human?
I am sworn to secrecy

he hides inside that suit over there
that living instagram post of a successful man
reliant on your approval 
deserving of your trust
uncontroversial
highly paid

he is strategic
wise enough to find a way to be authentic
without being cancelled

I think we all need a pseudonym

Macbook Pro
golden
in my bed
nestled between my thighs
like a seductive lover
coaxing me to tell you my secrets

enticed
I give in

my fingers tap your lettered tiles
words making truth
even when I try to hide it

I write away my fears
I write my truest loves

I write my greatest joys
I write my deepest sorrows

I write my sweetest dreams
I write my saddest regrets

I write my way back
I write my way forward

I write my new beginnng
I write my happy ending

I tell you everything

It was late
the dining room was dark
except for the lamp
by her Singer sewing machine

I’d begged to stay up
past my bedtime
so I could watch her
making this pretty dress
for me

I asked if I could work the treadle
but my legs were too short

I wondered aloud
why Grandma Gunderson
was so proud
of her dining room table and chairs

Duncan Phyfe she said
as if that would explain it
to a fourth grader
but I memorized the name
because it seemed important

after awhile
she noticed me fidgeting
and anxiously hiding my yawns

I’d never slept
on a couch before
I’d never slept
by myself

she said
come put you head on my lap
as she moved to the next room
and settled at the end of the couch

the house was so still
I could hear my breath

grandma gently
scratched the nape of my neck
as all worry melted

it was ecstasy

I fought to stay awake
so I could languish
in this serenity
this peace

there would never be
another place
that felt as safe
as my grandma’s lap

Somebody stole their wedding vessel
that glass the Jewish groom breaks
with a stomp of his foot
before kissing the bride

the shards of crystal danced with light
as they were swept into a velvet pouch
for safe keeping

a lost reminder
but lasting lesson
things in your heart can’t be stolen

life sparkles and life cuts

I left my body long ago
when it became a stranger

I wash and repair it like a car
I exercise and feed it like a dog

seventy years ago
when my body was born
my parents named it Mary Pat

I’ve watched it fall, dance, give birth, and climb trees
I try to rest it when it’s tired
and comfort it when it’s hurt

yet I am not this
but something else
unbounded by time and space
formless 
nameless 
beyond my understanding

a tiny wisp of breath
almost nothing
maybe nothing
yes
nothing

My truest love
I hold you so tight
I feel the beat of both our hearts
so many things I want to say
so many reasons I am grateful for you
but there are no words for this

some things can only be said with tears