On a rain day

            On a rain day

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I want to die

On a rain come down day

Rain to wash me

To wash my memories

Like baptism. Clean.

I want to die in the monsoon

With air soft as promise

Or when the sky talks up a storm

Wild with electric snap rap tap

Wet wild empty the sky

Rain be my tears

Tears for me, for those I love

For those who love me

For those I never loved

Especially for those.

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At first light

At first light

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At first light they sing

The sun breaks through the horizon

A time of silence, as if in reverence

One by one they fly

With occasional chirps

Doing bird business

To chorus again at sundown

Rumi says birdsong mirrors my longing

Let my silence be my song

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Early Morn

            Early Morn

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I lay in bed listening

The click of the refrigerator

A flock of yellow-heads swish the sky

An avocado falls through tree branches

An iguana scrabbles across the roof tiles

Josue starts his truck, off to work

The silence of sunlight burns off the fog

I lay thinking how content I am

It makes me feel kind of sad.

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Rumors

            Rumors

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Clouds whisper rumors of rain,

Whisper wisps into puffs whitely

Smatter with dark, lower blackly,

Heavy promise to come. Wind

Picks up rumor, knits it into mumbles,

Weaves stories of remembered storms

Through each leaf and spine, quiver

Tales of green renewal, awakening

A season of uplifted throats, dry,

Gasping into song as first drops pitter.

I stand in speckled sun, mute,

Able to hear only a hint

Of the chorus sung.

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One Might Think

            One Might Think

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One might think

God hated women

The way we are treated

In this Righteous Religious

Powerful Man-country.

They say

God made man and woman;

God made man to rule,

Woman to serve. Powerful man,

So powerful that when he can’t keep

His pecker in his pants, it’s the woman’s fault.

So we serve. We bow and scrape,

Clean up his messes. You know

How men are; they have strong needs,

So turn your head and forgive him.

And for God’s sake, never let him know

You might be smarter than him;

That would be woman’s unforgivable sin.

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Holding Water Moon

            Holding Water Moon

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Sea otter on its back

Floats the world

In a clam shell.

Moon

A sliver of praise

Upturned in its palms.

Walk across the skies

Never spill a drop

Holding water.

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Hard to Be Me

Hard to Be Me      

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It’s hard to be the new girl

In school, on the block, at the office.

Doesn’t get any easier when we get older.

Here we are, strangers, in a tiny colonia

In a village in Jalisco, a dozen

Gringos. That one has long history here,

Others have family connections,

Some hold long-time friendships. I’m

The New Girl, the unknown element.

Someday I’ll have my “place”; I will know

Where I fit. But today, I’m new.

The hallways are confusing.

I’m not sure how to find

My classroom. On what street

Is my new house? All the cubbies

In the tall office building—am I in the right

Building?—confuse me. I feel alone

Like that big-eyed girl in third grade

Who moved to town from South Dakota.

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