Classification
On poverty and aspirations
Where I Can Safely Be Myself
Haiku wishes for greener spaces and a kinder world
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April Micropoems
wind chimes and songbirds
even the curtains balloon in celebration
today’s open window
Or Shall We Call It…
There’s a difference
between how
the word is
used—apathy
in the personal
sense, indifference,
or lack of caring,
where you refuse
to act, or do
the right thing,
Or Shall We Call It… Read More »
Flying Home
The stranger next
to me, too close
for comfort, I can
practically feel his
breath on my neck,
or is it the air I
always have to turn
on high? How I hate
to fly, I always seem
to get searched,
and while I
What I Did That Day
An Ode to My Former Teammates at IBM
Heya, so you know what I did? Took the day off
to think about what was actually happening,
was really going on behind the scenes, behind
the screens and the gaslighting. I mean, I got up
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On Being Obsequious
She told me obsequious wasn’t the right word,
wasn’t the way to describe that grainy beach in
loosely translated terms of something yielding
and servile, but here it still is after decades of
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Magpie
My dearly beloveds, I’d like to tell you
and the magpie how very much you are
needed, how very lovely it is to hear you
What It’s All About
You see (I seem to start that way a lot lately, don’t I?) what
it’s really about is the choices we make, even the littlest
ones we CAN make, where we really do have several options,
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On Choosing a Tomb
He says he wants to see Solomon’s
tomb, the Ark of the Covenant, and
treasures that turn dragons a shade
of muted emerald. Furtively search
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Identity
The way he says identity politics—as if claiming any identity
is something moderately pornographic, a Congressional
tabloid where everything is dirtier than he is. Never mind
his own proud proclamation: White male. Lover of guns
Or Perhaps
Or perhaps you would prefer to hear
my hands shake, that I can no longer
feel my fingertips, that I shut them in
National Poetry Month 2024 – Micropoems
Despondence is
avocado toast.
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Strike Out (Sonnet Number Something)
They may not sweeten after being picked, but they do seem
to get softer, these aging players that were the talk of the baseball
town. For some reason, they suddenly can’t get past the strike zone:
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1969
Ageism launched the year we were born—literally. That was the year they
dispatched us and a supercharged word into a no-so-straight-arrowed
world.
Somerville, circa 1988
Somerville.
Renting a room
in a peeling Victorian,
too many women
sharing one bathroom.
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No Judgment Zone
What shall we celebrate today?
Should it be sugar-free candies
and exercise? That splendid sit-
down cross-trainer that politely asks
listless arms and legs and hands
and feet to do the work for once,
