See,
women can fly, too!
(piloting snowboards)
& sometimes,
these talented angels
still wear a smile
even when
they fall from
the sky—
the sun
shines back
a bright gold
upon the
whitest of
snows.
See,
women can fly, too!
(piloting snowboards)
& sometimes,
these talented angels
still wear a smile
even when
they fall from
the sky—
the sun
shines back
a bright gold
upon the
whitest of
snows.
It’s too cold to go out;
it’s too dark to wander in the city.
Music grows quieter in the houses.
We draw & dream of spring flowers.
It’s too dark to wander in the city
while the snow settles down—
We draw & dream of spring flowers,
but the leaves are frozen over
while the snow settles down—
Bundle up dear ones; wear your warm boots,
but the leaves are frozen over:
be careful out there! Don’t slip—
Bundle up dear ones! Wear your warm boots.
Music grows quieter in the houses.
Be careful out there! Don’t slip—
It’s too cold to go out.
“If you don’t eat at Breeze,”
the hotel’s concierge warned us,
“you could spend
your New Year’s Eve
with ruffians!”
What are ruffians exactly
in Nantucket?
Are they the fishermen
with long, bushy beards
who wear flannel shirts & eat at Stubby’s,
or are they the workmen
that come from all the corners of the earth,
dreaming of whales & boats?
Are they the grizzly grandmas
who shop solo at Stop & Shop,
driving their weathered Volvos,
or the waitresses from Ireland,
Thailand & Jamaica,
they miss their homeland
as they pour more drinks?
Are they the shopgirls
with frizzy hair,
sharp eyes & fast hands,
speaking in indecipherable accents?
Or are they other poor visitors,
pretending to be rich
for four nights,
at the end of the year,
like artists, musicians or poets,
who play & perform
for their supper
as the tipsy audience cheers them on?
The Yule logs burn on the TV
as Xmas music plays on the guitar.
Two logs resemble square-headed
gingerbread men, their faces
made in knots of wood. They are
frozen in place, with fires grazing
at their open mouths, right before
they could kiss. My man sleeps
on our new couch, after our
noontime Christmas Day kissing.
Don’t worry Darling.
If the rain falls down,
we’ll be safe
from the storm.
& your touch
makes my skin
feel so warm—
Don’t you feel my kisses
between the lines,
when the evening turns blue?
Come over here, Darling.
I’m waiting
here for you.
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year”—
Today’s evergreens smell like dead leaves,
the city sidewalks are wet with rain.
No snow (yet); in this December
today’s evergreens smell like dead leaves.
Holiday cookies are store-bought; hot Lipton tea is fragrant, but
no snow yet! In this December,
money is too tight for any gift-giving this season.
Holiday cookies are store-bought; hot Lipton tea is fragrant, but
our love still brews strong here.
Money is too tight for any gift-giving this season,
but our faces glow with happiness, because
our love still brews strong here.
The city’s sidewalks are wet with rain,
but our faces glow with happiness, because
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
Don’t worry Darling.
If the rain falls down,
we’ll be safe from the storm.
& your touch
makes my skin
feel so warm—
Don’t you feel my kisses
between the lines,
when the evening turns blue?
Come over here, Darling.
I’m waiting
here for you.
Dear God,
please don’t let me throw up.
Rudy’s Uncle S is driving his mom’s CRV,
like Mario Andretti cruising down Henry Hudson Parkway.
“Please slow down,” I pleaded.
“We don’t have seatbelts in the back seat…”
Rudy’s mom is almost comatose;
she’s the navigator. And Aunt J
is hanging her head out of the car,
as if she was a 10-year-old girl in Haifa.
We don’t feel well. We ate too much—
Turkey, 4 kinds of salad, cranberry sauce,
green beans & mushrooms, rice & mushrooms,
pumpkin soup, pumpkin pie, apple cake,
& a cake shaped like a dinosaur.
A feast for the gods!
Rudy’s mom: “This may be the last
Thanksgiving dinner I’ll make.”
She’s been saying this for years.
Now, she doesn’t want to cross Central Park alone.
But Uncle S still speeds on 5th Ave,
& Aunt J is still nauseated,
& Rudy sits in the middle,
trying not to create another argument.
I hold on, white-faced,
unto the seat for dear life—
hoping that this last great meal
will stay down.
As we gather together during cool mornings,
the coffee percolates!
The pumpkins outside still smile
with toothy grins. The kids sip hot apple cider;
the coffee percolates.
Daddy scrubs the pans clean.
With toothy grins, the kids sip hot apple cider
as Mom bakes pumpkin pies.
Daddy scrubs the pans clean
while ignoring all the Christmas ads & merchandise.
As Mom bakes pumpkin pies,
we say our daily prayers
while ignoring all the Christmas ads & merchandise.
The pumpkins outside still smile.
We say our daily prayers
as we gather together during cool mornings.
my brain buzzes like a mosquito;
bladder’s full of water
at 5 am—
just give me the weight of the heavens,
seeing the curvature of the Earth
as my eyes close again—
the stars continue to wink
without provocation,
(but I don’t see them)
& light outside
is a heavy aquamarine—
I try to reach for you
on the other side of the bed,
but you are already
under the ocean—
please let me sleep again.
radical thoughts of expiration
are buzzing—quiet them all!
let’s inhale—exhale;
swat them away
until everything shuts off
in the almost-waking world—
snoring deep again
sun peeks through
the apartment buildings,
I miss it
until noon
a drone helicopter
darts by the window—
or, was it a dream?