The Doctor
He believed if he practiced
medicine long enough,
he would be the exception,
could keep his mother alive.
Forever, his white coat could ward off
code blue, the red glow of a flat line.
Sijo #16
sijo
Sijo #15
Blue Woman
I have never been a blue woman
until tonight. I drive in color cast
from dozens of police beacons.
Sirens are silent when I ask them
what is civil about a disturbance,
since when were sidewalks private?
Sijo #14
In the Bramble
Behind the rust of an abandoned trailer
I crawl through thickets,
tear a sundress in the branches,
thorns scrape skin into red hash marks,
as I stretch for berries, sour and green.
Sijo #12
Iron Sharpens Iron
Yet this rub is sandpaper
irritation against soft skin.
And I am uncertain if it smooths
away rough, unfinished bits,
or leaves behind tender flesh,
burnt raw, broken blood vessels.
Sijo #11
Skywatchers
Promise, we will never grow old
of watching the clouds,
their cumulous slow-drift.
Hold my hand, can you still imagine?
What is it ? Point upwards
to the blue sky so I might see it too.
Sijo #10
Lin-Manuel Miranda is America’s Modern Day Bard and Other Thoughts Watching Hamilton Alone on Saturday Night
For fun I watch the musical Hamilton
over and over
so I won’t forget how to stay on beat,
how that downward chord progression
makes me smile, sing on key,
gives me a good, ugly cry without fail.
Sijo #9
Dear Bluebird,
To the bluebird perched on the sign
at the fork in the road,
thank you for the cerulean
of your dewdrop body
above the red stop, the pause,
a brief moment of brilliant color.
Sijo #8
Geode
Hunt for the ordinary,
the roundness of plain rocks.
Pluck it up if you spot one.
Does it feel lighter than expected?
The surface, unpretentious may hold
rows of gems in its dark hollow.
Sijo # 7
Hunger
I am not ashamed to say
I am a women of appetites,
which is to say I will plate
leftover chocolate cake,
eat it in silence for breakfast
with a tall glass of cold milk.
Sijo #6
I break with waves on shoreline,
watch their steady, redundant work.
Face to face with oceans, I am small
countless grains of sand clinging
to my body, holding on to my sweat.
Stubborn, they refuse to be brushed away.
