Throw me a bone

Throw me a bone

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I ran into a man I’d known

Forty-some years ago. We’d

Helped each other, a rich

Connection, I thought.

I sought reunion, renewal.

He offered superficial chat,

Dismissal. While telling this story,

Last night, another few years later,

I got it. We’d never had friendship;

We’d had a business transaction.

That realization

Triggered examination

Of the several times I offered “love”

In exchange

For any bone of affection.

Ah, the stories we make up

To get us through the day.

I ran into a man I’d known

Forty-some years ago. We’d

Helped each other, a rich

Connection, I thought.

I sought reunion, renewal.

He offered superficial chat,

Dismissal. While telling this story,

Last night, another few years later,

I got it. We’d never had friendship;

We’d had a business transaction.

That realization

Triggered examination

Of the several times I offered “love”

In exchange

For any bone of affection.

Ah, the stories we make up

To get us through the day.

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Sky Game

                Sky Game

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Today there is no sky

Up there where it belongs.

Sometimes the sky dips

Too close to the ground.

The trees grab it

And pin it to the earth,

But only in winter

When tree arms are bare

Exposing jagged fingers.

Some days the sky wriggles

Up and overhead by noon.

Sometimes the trees

Hold it down for days.

I think it is a game.

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Camel Sweat and Other Songs

Camel Sweat and Other Songs

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Lapsang Suchong satisfies me

In ways no other tea can. I pour

Boiling water onto the leaves

And comfort my face in steam.

Tea and memories swirl

When I allow the solitude.

I swallow the last sip.

Campfire smoke lingers

On my tongue.

When I cross the mountains

Going east, my heart sings.

I fell in love with my first husband

Because he smelled of saddle leather.

Pungent sagebrush in dry autumn

Evening makes me homesick

For the first good years we shared.

I stand beside my son’s grave,

Head raised into the prairie wind

Hoping it will carry off my sorrows.

But they return

Mixed with other tears

And blow into my face

When I walk barefoot

Across Pacific tide flats.

I return to my cabin, pour

Boiling water over tea leaves,

Burn sage I brought from home

And comfort myself.

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The Dress That Covered A Multitude of Never Minds

            The Dress That Covered A Multitude of Never Minds

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I wore that dress one time only

In my single-with-children days.

That dress was Me,

Reminiscent of a 1920’s Flapper,

With yards of fringe which covered

A multitude of . . . Never mind.

That red dress danced me

Around the ballroom,

Fringe in motion, exultant.

I dumped that dress,

Along with other gifts,

On that man’s doorstep.

Each item was marked

With a subtle price tag,

Hidden in his agenda.

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Stories

            Stories

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I grew up in isolated

North-eastern Montana.

Everybody knew your story.

I sneaked out of CYC and drove

Dad’s car, crammed with friends,

Up and down Main Street.

Somebody told my Dad,

Better keep a tight rein

On your filly there.

When my baby died,

Women from a hundred miles

Came to me, held me,

Cried with me, told me,

I lost a baby too.

Paradoxically,

In isolated communities.

There is no privacy.

Today I live in Mexico,

On the edge of a rural village.

I live by myself. In solitude

I find strength and beauty.  

Now and then, I feel lonely.

Nobody knows my stories

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We Six Women

            We Six Women

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I rage against

The man-god

Who would take all

And leave us dry

As old dry bones

With not even spit

In our mouths.

Gather together,

You old dry bones,

Gird your thighs with fire

And cross the line.

There’s more to this

Than the Blood of the Lamb.

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The Mountains of Chicago

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Chicago marked a low point

In my roller-coaster life,

So low I could not recognize

Who I had come to be.

We lived in a husk of house,

Back of a used-car lot.

The one saving grace of that house

Was a glassed-in second-story porch.

A place to escape, to write bad

Poetry. My lament; I missed

My mountains. From a deep place

That still held a breath of fire, I heard

A voice; make your own mountains.

It took me months before I learned

To climb into my mountains for rest.

From those mountains in Chicago

I learned beauty and courage.

From Chicago I returned to myself.

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