Disgusted that her blood pressure is high
again, our mother wants a doctor’s fix.
She doesn’t listen when we offspring try
reminding her that she is 96,
and maybe what’s occurring’s normal now.
She’s never been this old, and nor have we.
I notice I’ve a tenderness in brow;
perhaps it’s just a sign of 70.
The expert paid a visit and was paid.
He studied the dynamics, interviewed
our team, absorbed the plans, and then he laid
out recommended actions. To conclude
his work, he edited the notes he made
for spiral binding, but did not include
the tactical and practical we needed.
His job was done and none of it succeeded.
(Ottava Rima)
She ages but she’s relatively sound,
although she has less stamina and wind.
She doesn’t sleep as deeply, and she’s found
her epidermis saggy and so thinned,
she’ll bruise from using keys or bumping wood.
Resuming after illness exercise,
she tries to crunch and stretch, and sure it’s good,
but she concludes aerobics gets the prize.
The feedback was too pointed to ignore.
Her heart rate rose; her nose began to run;
she pedaled and respired even more,
and 13 minutes after she’d begun,
she felt herself return. No hurt impeded.
Her body said exactly what she needed.
They have a crowded house. They buy in bulk,
and don’t dispose as often as acquire.
The smile boxes tower like a hulk
in entryway – and though they say they’ll hire
help before the situation’s dire,
they model hoard behavior for their boy.
Then he retains so much I’m made a sigher.
At least he opts for books as favored toy.
(Huitain)
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the name
her father chose – she thought it undeserved.
She didn’t have a chromosome of claim
to French. Her heritage was ghetto life
in Poland, Russia (actually Ukraine),
so how could she possess an accent mark?
She dropped Renée when marrying, became
in last and middle other, till she swerved
(reborn) today, and modified her frame.
(Magic 9)
My mother said that I should practice law.
But that won’t work. Although I argue well,
she overlooked the mercenary flaw:
it’s strictly my beliefs and thoughts I tell.
A clump of friends and colleagues tried to sell
the notion teaching classes would fulfill.
But I don’t thrive with groups – my talents dwell
in one-on-one attention. That’s my skill.
(Huitain)
The afternoon was long, and I was tired
from baby care and talk and little sleep.
“I’ll drive you home,” she thanked as she inquired
how best to help me get to well-earned rest.
But I refused the ride, for I desired
the privacy of public trains and buses.
I get to people-watch. I get inspired.
And though it costs me time, I plan to keep
my urban transit ways. I’ll rest rewired.
(Magic 9)
It’s just as well I have to leave my room,
for trucks are working on the street today.
I wouldn’t mind construction or the zoom
of chain-saw pruning, but the endless bray
of backups, when we haven’t any ruts,
incessant safety signals, have a way
of drilling on my brain to drive me nuts.
It seems too soon for Daylight time again,
but Sunday clocks reset, the backyard strewn
with Prunus petals as I pushed this pen.
It seems too soon.
Too little rain, and garden dirt a dune –
New fires taking trees and oxygen –
The light not long enough to feel like June –
Three days ahead the stars declare is when
spring season will begin. No one’s immune
from equinox, but I can’t say Amen.
It seems too soon.
(Roundel)
A candle on the mantel wafted scent
but sat too high for me to see the flame.
Aroma permeated air and lent
an herbal atmosphere I couldn’t name.
I love some folks who light and burn the same
so much their ceiling’s sooty from the wicks.
I went for vision and avoided stain;
I set the candle on my hearth’s red bricks.
(Huitain)
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