Month: December 2013

Christmas, reel-to-reel

We travel with ghosts. That reel-to-reel tape player You hid beneath tinsel and bows Was going to let you last forever. I could have your voice To carry, no matter what the years Stripped away. I interviewed you Saturday mornings, after Bingo And Fresca and trinkets I won From your jewelry box. Nothing stayed. I … Continue reading “Christmas, reel-to-reel”

We travel with ghosts.
That reel-to-reel tape player
You hid beneath tinsel and bows
Was going to let you last forever.

I could have your voice
To carry, no matter what the years
Stripped away. I interviewed you
Saturday mornings, after Bingo
And Fresca and trinkets I won
From your jewelry box.

Nothing stayed. I can almost bear
The sight of your writing
On old letters in the attic.
But I cannot stand to read
The stories we once shared.

All time comes no more.
I am as old as you were then
And every day, heaven comes closer.
Your voice nearly whispers
In my ear. Crazy is a place
That could keep me from you.

 

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My Husband Does the Wash

The day you turned Springsteen blue Crushed something in my heart. What we talk about when we talk Is never what we mean. I like to keep things Clean, but you don’t see the dirt. I sort by category and weight I read labels, and experience. Rayon shrinks, deep colors bleed. You say you will … Continue reading “My Husband Does the Wash”

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The day you turned Springsteen blue
Crushed something in my heart.
What we talk about when we talk
Is never what we mean. I like to keep things
Clean, but you don’t see the dirt.
I sort by category and weight
I read labels, and experience.
Rayon shrinks, deep colors bleed.
You say you will cover it up, the blue
BVDs and the grey undershirts. I wear
Everything on my sleeve, including old
Memories of Bruce, center stage
On my mind’s eye, his guitar tuned
To the beat in my pulse.

 

key words: laundry, Bruce Springsteen, relationships