It's good to set goals and actually achieve them -- Who knew! I admit I took the easy way out more than once. There was a lot over the course of the month that turned out to be just words for words' sake. This year I'm just proud I reached my goal. Next year my goal will be 30 poems I'm proud of.
Still, there are a few I'm looking forward to messing around with. So now the real work begins. Revision, revision, revision...
But first poems 24-30
His Mildred and Mine
We used to call it the Annual Mildred Summit
When we got the two of you together on Christmas
You were already in your 80's by then and
you talked about the past -- raising families
Your husbands -- one, long gone and one
recent enough that tears flowed
One tiny Mildred comforting another
You were always cold, shivering in your cardigans,
the heat turned up past 80
exercising your right, as matrons, to complain, complain complain
I told you every Christmas, it's always colder in my dining room
near the back door with the draft coming down the chimney,
but you seemed to like it there.
The table suited the occasion, I guess.
A summit being a somewhat formal affair.
And now one of you is gone, 6 years
You never saw my children, Grandmom
You loved babies. And your first great-grandtwins?
You'd have been "tickled"
Only my mother, your daughter knows this:
I missed you most the day Obama beat McCain.
My little old black lady. You deserved to see that.
And one of you, we've watched become more frail, more stooped
more resigned over time to the inevitable.
It's the resignation that hurts the most.
We don't mean to show pity, it's just, well
Remember yourself at 40. It's impossible to comprehend
what 94 years feels like. We say, may we all be so lucky
But we don't know what we're saying, do we
94 years. We should visit more
Life is long and it's slow but every so often it gains
momentum. Leaves you wondering were the last 10 years gone off to
And of course, there's that precipice around a turn, somewhere.
94 years from now
Everyone my children love today will be gone.
Unless they are lucky enough to still have each other
Your morning faces
One sad, one always a little angry
I know what a burden sleep can be
It asks too much
And dredges up the detritus of all your tiny
And the secrets it forces you keep --
Do you dream of being forced from the playground too soon
Of Buzz Lightyear lost in the yard, his smile fading in the sun
Do you fight in your dreams over pink dinosaurs
Are we there in your dreams? Am I there
There are mornings when your resentment is palpable
And we’re a little rough with the hugs
eager to rub it away with the crust under your noses
And that’s the thing about dreams. We know what they can do
We keep saying, “We’re here, I’m here”
but you’ve made no accusations yet, have you
Did you see my face, the heartbreak
I cried with you, but it didn't help
We let you down
We're here, I'm here
Except, we weren't, were we
We let you down
Will you remember this
As I will
We share her, though we aren't happy about it
We respect her history more than we accept
her current state of affairs
No wonder she has attitude
No wonder she has a complex
We talk behind her back
She ain't what she was
We say it to her face
You can't live here, nobody lives here
But the woman in the next cubicle lives here
No wonder the city hates us
this is exhausting
will I ever breathe again
F the new normal
You'll have this to contemplate later
whether you've lived a good life
It doesn't have to hurt. You may decide
You've earned the right to be proud
You'll be fooling yourself a little
But if you're lucky
You'll be too old to care.
Thank God it's over!
Now I can do laundry, cook
But tonight - TV