Wake

Your tracks
My mourning
The end of a dream.

Upon Visiting the Old House

My tears were not a cry, but a song

The song of today devouring yesterday –

Equal parts lamentation

And celebration.

I cried because I could again

Sense the pulse of my first kiss

Taste icicles plucked from the patio roof

See the snowman stand sentinel

Beyond my gossamer curtains

Watch my dreams bounce playfully

Atop bright allium balls

Along the garden, stopping now and then

To chase hummingbirds among the lilies

Of the valley of my youth

Start a fried chicken food fight, fling

Mashed potatoes on the freckled face

Of my first friend

Prick our thumbs with rose thorns

Blood sisters

Smile hello all summer to so many

Red cheeks

Gapped teeth

And sun-peeled

Shoulders

Comrades in walnut wars

And hopscotch battles

I swore I’d never forget

(But did)

I cried because I missed my tomboy knees and caveman soles –

I missed my soul –

There is no childhood

Like a barefoot one.

In the Middle

I don’t care for blank slates.

Why start anew when I’ve already begun?

New beginnings feel naked and cold

And disembodied somehow,

But life in the middle of the checklist,

Below the done but before the do –

It feels Goldilocks right –

Warmed by the blaze of possibility

But cooled by sober experience –

It’s spring:

Opportunity sprung up from decaying failure,

The dandelion that grows on the dung pile.

Assembly Required

Ask me later,

When I’ve had sufficient time

To unpack my words,

Spread them onto the table,

Scan,

Sort,

Marry tongue with groove,

And present you with a lie

Better assembled than the truth.   

Claw Machine Doll

I won’t hide today,

Behind characters contrived to say

The words that perch

Impertinently on my tongue

With brazen threat

But dearth of deed.

I will verbalize,

Actualize,
Embody what I divine

When my fingers

Trace the cracks in my youth:

That it isn’t too late

To keep the moon awake all night,

To stop living like a claw machine doll,

Painted emotions and plastic love

Awarded to a lucky winner.

Spring Cleaning

Yes, I have put away childish things,

But haphazardly, hastily,

As if preparing for houseguests,

Stuffing old fears and tears in drawers,

Monsters shoved back under the bed,

And wayward wants inside my head,

So that my life now resembles

A poorly stuffed pillow,

Little clumps of softness

Finding holes in the hems

And sometimes breaking free.

The F-Word Myth

My fellow teachers often gripe about "kids these days" and their "potty mouths." At the high school where I work, one cannot stand in the bustling, buzzing hallway for more than a few seconds without hearing a curse word. Adults complain that children no longer have manners, that they don't care to speak professionally, eloquently, with sophistication - in a word, "correctly."

This is a lie.

My students enjoy learning and using new, "smart" words like (from this week's list) "cadaverous" and "loquacious" and "sycophant." They enjoy flexing their ever-growing lexicons around friends and family, and regale me with funny stories about how they outsmart others with their newfound vocabularies. In class they practice using new words by creating "Your Mother" jokes (not "Yo Mama" - it is English class, after all) and grandiloquent pick up lines which they later dare each other to use in the cafeteria or on the bus.

But I still struggle to get them to cut down on the swearing.

Today I came up with a new strategy - the truth. Time will tell if it has an impact. Two students asked me if I ever curse. I was tempted to lie and tell them that I only use appropriate language, but instead I said, "Of course." My students were shocked - their English teacher swears? Do you say the F-Word? Do you say SHIT - I mean, the S-word? No way! You're not supposed to - you teach English!

I told them about the myth: that to be classy and "eductated" we must all delete "bad" words from our vocabularies. I gave them this advice: "There will be times in your life when only the F-word will do. Hold on to it. Reserve it. Don't use it up and render it hackneyed (another vocab word). Keep it ready for the moment when you've got nothing else. Then use it without shame."

I suspect I'll get some angry parent phone calls in the next few days. I'll be careful not to deploy any F-bombs. Unless I've got nothing else, of course. :)