ship, version 1

You were longboned, then, but lanky still,
an unbuilt youth. You'd be a solid ship,
I thought; your will
a worthy captain; through whatever ill wind
might rise, you would hold course.
And so I chose my ship, signed
the life I left away, to snug
myself into your path.
No mate, I hid me in your hold, and slept,
your arm embraced me.
I could hardly hear your heart,
dreaming,
And when an evil wind
whipped up the water at our heels,
ripped through our sails,
tore boards,
at last unshipped us into cold, violent sea--
There in the dark water your long arms
held me
as a man might hold his friend
not knowing whether they'd find some plank,
some help,
or drown together.

doggerel

Have you tried to write a sonnet, while a child fussed at your arm,

Or tried to tell you all the different kinds of Pokemon?

Have you rhymed a little quatrain--have you even turned a couplet

With a baby at your elbow saying Mom, can you just stop it?

There's something about writing that makes children need to snuggle;

Their plumpness is a pleasure, but it makes the task a struggle. 

I will write poems one day, I say, to the wiggler on my lap,

But today I'll scrawl some doggerel, and then I'll take a nap.

harvesting sunflowers

We tease the black seeds
from their spiral nests
like little teeth,
the children's fingers nimbler
than mine. These smaller
circles recall
the first faller--the great
moon face, pie wide.
When it died
the thumb thick stem
green as a lime skin, grew
fingers--unfolded
new small blooms
palmsfull of darktipped seeds
compact in spirals
soldiers surrounded by double
ranks of petals bright
and soft as mango.
We cut the elder sister
off her stem, scraped
the red filaments,
unpacked the dark seeds
to keep, to plant, to toast
and eat; we cut
the first two sister faces
too, propped up in a glass
jar with water.
For a week there they reproached us,
then their bright petals
unpacked themselves
and dropped, puddled on the bare
table like yellow tears.
Just so,
once, I left for the evening
and returning, met my
littlest, her legs
curled beneath her, baby
face pressed to the wood
floor--she'd cried,
her father said, until
she fell asleep.