It was with exquisite awkwardness and nervous fragility that I held the infant, cradling him in quivering arms away from my body like carrying a nest of bees or a tin of glowing coals, stunned by the squirming weightlessness of new life and the surging energy and light, marveling at his pulsing fontanelle in all its haunting delicateness
Read MoreLike the lizard, I have left
one skin behind, and feel
the time has come to shed another
and redeem all that I am not.
Carla Warren and Andrew Nunn were lovers. Carla was first violin and concert master for the Mount Felicia orchestra. Her husband was a mediocre cellist, named Ned Warren.
Read MoreThat summer, when the plane touched down in Atlanta, my hair was still windblown from the Colorado Rockies. My mother’s words echoed as I stepped onto the tarmac: I’m bringing someone with me. I saw him before he saw me: Red-faced, gripping a row of avocado chairs. Well-worn blue jeans, shirt tucked tight. Slicked-back hair, two-day stubble, with his oil-stained fingers wrapped around my mother. “You’re pretty, just like your mama,” the mechanic drawled, all yellow-toothed smile. I glared at him, and the teeth disappeared. We rode from Atlanta to Conyers in silence.
Read MoreYou could call me late
and not say a word
and I’d know it was you.
I’d never tell anyone.
“for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing….”
Galway Kinnell, “St. Francis and the Sow”
Read MoreThe spaceship points toward the stars—
allowing the yellow rays of light to welcome
friends of the vast black space.
It was a dream in which people could see the future
and were happy knowing what was in store,
good weather, hard times, beautiful lovers, all life
to come —-
To know what we want is easy. The things we are supposed to desire are thrown in our faces all the time: happiness, prosperity, companionship. But to know what we don’t want takes a special ability to see ourselves clearly.
Read MoreStand and hold your breath for me
I’ve asked and you have done it
No favor has this earnest game
No greater will before you
Only I will say your name
and hold you in your glory
It is raining.
The sink is full of dirty dishes but I’m cooking anyway
a blue colander balances on chipped teacups.
I am singing
a song we used to know
My dog, Zoey, and I followed the cobblestone path to my chair; where I sat down to survey what needed to be done in the garden.
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