where we are

cool air and red and orange leafed trees line the streets
yellow crackly leaves piled by the soft wind along the curb
my dress slides open in the front and I blush and worry that someone may have noticed

zoe's nails are painted pale pink with a tiny white flower on one
she is bright eyed and holds up three fingers when I ask how old she is
her shoes are silver and covered in sparkles and so is her grey dress
she sits on the tabletop and laughs and plays with her mom
their eyes locked together   hands clapping twice and then meeting each others

no one has asked and i tell myself they are just trying to be polite
maybe they don't know

easy to watch   float through   lose track of where i am
where we are

long night

i miss her

song of devotion

this ain't hard to like at all
flashback to portland parquet floors
san antonio single lady nights
and the start of my sister-friendships
summer evenings on that grand porch
my weird fill-in carnival birthday party
through those painfully silent months
whispered secrets at opal divines
and finally to a beautiful night at bess

years later now
chelsea's red lipstick and rock and roll kimono
and our rekindled love for bouldin creek
lara's glowing happiness
and the grey in cl's temples
what a beautiful life we have created
the sisters filling our house  filling my heart

cambridge

it was simple and all consuming
i timed my walk through the store to see her
to brush my hand against hers in the tight space of the office
beautiful fair skin glowing round face long fiery hair tucked behind her ears
and i held that picture that feeling
until the next call  the next round through the store

she is smoking
leather jacket over dyed levi's doc martin boots leaning against the brick wall
waiting for the delivery 
krishna tells stories about the show last night
i nod along with the conversation
waiting for those couple moments
to walk back upstairs feel her hand on the small of my back
our pause on the landing
another picture to carry me through the day

we sat at the kitchen table drinking beer laughing
she told me she loved him and that they were getting married
and I couldn't breathe and my mind raced
and i watched more and more and more words splatter onto the table
and the edges closed in

the betsy johnson dress was deliciously blood red
unexpected irreverent
and i watched her pull the white tissue out of the pink box
she smiled and kissed my face
i felt everything drain out of me
everything left in that box on the table

she watched nervously as i packed 
trying to get all my clothes into the last three boxes
she grabbed my hand and told me she loved me
numb   confused 
already committed to a new start
alone too long in that flush
too scared to trust her
to trust anything

slipping

i don't want to forget

that excruciatingly long morning waiting for the news
relieved  scared  excited when he finally called
crying and laughing and how hot my face felt
that first deep breath knowing     
hands on my belly
my whispered songs of encouragement
quieting my fear

and it started ending 
slowly
and then the afternoon in the office
the blur of the week that followed



i drew an arrow on my arm
black sharpie from the crook of my elbow to my wrist
dotted with the moon 
from new to full to a waning sliver 
like my eight weeks with that tiny almost my baby
something I can see and touch 

a record of that slow slip from soon
to some day towards maybe we were built for a different life
to heavy stillness towards today

new moon
new day
new start