Prom

Where I cradled you I release you to the world. A blue heron soars.

Where I cradled you

I release you to the world.

A blue heron soars.

My Ex-Husband Turns 50

My Ex-Husband Turns 50 And I grow old with memory. Sorrows I nursed, the way I held Our children, counting every breath, Wet and taut, worried that I had them All wrong. They thrived On my ministrations. Anger is different. It starved me for years.                         Life’s fierce demands Too much for us. These days, I … Continue reading “My Ex-Husband Turns 50”

My Ex-Husband Turns 50

And I grow old with memory.

Sorrows I nursed, the way I held

Our children, counting every breath,

Wet and taut, worried that I had them

All wrong. They thrived

On my ministrations. Anger is different.

It starved me for years.

                        Life’s fierce demands

Too much for us. These days, I blame it

On the air. I was a young bride,

So sure in my satin that I could turn

Him on my hips.  We did not fit. Weaned

From that life, hardly ready for what followed.

Years passed.

                                   

      We were fourteen

In a basement, doors locked against

Inevitable police neighbors called

When the band played too loud.

Someone is singing, still,

Though we cannot hear those waves

Crashing as they must against

All that we chose to do.

Key words: Aging, turning 50, memory