Minnesota Man Dies

 A man has died, a thousand miles from where my children play, their laughter ringing through the house, their dancing shaking the walls. A man- a husband, a father, a friend- who lived his life in service to others, will not wake up tomorrow. His clothes will hang in a dark closet, until they can be faced by his widow. This death, like his life, will so quickly be forgotten, but tonight I cannot breathe through the sobs. 

ICE

An ice storm is coming, 

they tell me, 

and so I prepare:

water, 

shelter, 

blankets, 

food.

I cover delicate flowers, 

shielding them 

from a brutal reality- 

a cold 

they have never 

needed to know.

Ice is coming, 

they tell me, 

and so I prepare:

water,

shelter,

blankets,

food.

I wrap faucets 

and pool equipment 

in comforters, 

I lug planters 

inside the garage.

Ice is on the streets, 

they tell me, 

and so I prepare:

water,

shelter,

blankets, 

food.

I hide my children, 

covering their eyes 

so they do not hear 

the screams. 

Pineapple Reduction

This morning, I cut a pineapple 

and couldn’t remember why 

I thought of you. Did we 

use it as a codeword, 

was there a joke we used

To make?  And weren’t 

you supposed to be 

the one with the 

cleaver? Even 

now, years 

later, I am 

losing 

pieces 

of you. 

Revelation

And we,

made for eternity, 

cannot be satisfied 

by these 

ephemeral things.  

King Arthur

It’s been ten years since you squeezed my hand and slipped through my fingers. The stains on your undershirt made constellations around the holes we both pretended not to notice. I bought a stamp to mark my books, but my library could never compare to your basement floor- piles of papers on every surface, a wicker basket of highlighters next to the tub. It’s been ten years, and I can still smell you in my hair. I close my eyes and I hear ice clicking in a glass of orange juice.

Tears

Perhaps crying is holy- 

each tear, 

a prayer,

a benediction, 

a quiet plea 

for only you 

to hear.

This is Enough

 It is enough, 

that I have lived 

this small life. 

I have not 

been given trophies, 

but I have 

held a child’s hand.

My name is known 

to so very few, 

but it is always spoken 

with a smile. 

It is enough 

that I have 

fed a neighbor, 

comforted a friend, 

mourned a mentor.

This is enough.