I Take it All Back

 There are too many words 

between us, 

so much spoken 

that should have remained 

under my tongue. 

I reach for them, 

arms outstretched 

to pull them back-

to wind them 

around my teeth 

like too much floss-

to swallow them, 

bitter and angry, 

like the seeds 

of a pepper 

too hot to let linger 

on my lips.

That has always 

been my fault, 

hasn’t it? 

My love of words, 

and my inability 

to keep them locked 

behind bared teeth.

Seasons

On the other side 

of the country, 

my grandmother 

pulls beets 

from black soil, 

her hair 

a haphazard halo. 

I plant beans 

in the warm dirt, 

and whisper 

a benediction. 

My youngest daughter 

sprinkles 

tiny seeds 

over my shoulder, 

stretches 

toward the sun.