Stupid Like McCarthy

The adult children set a policy:
to come to them their folks must pre-arrange
a baby visit. Maybe history
accounts for what appears to be so strange,
or lack of sleep or normal hormone storm,
but now the olds have taken such offense,
their heated indignation keeps them warm –
the lines are drawn indelible, immense.

The heels dig in. Did someone make a threat?
Is that an ultimatum I just heard?
The opposite of movement is to set
oneself in stone. That strategy’s absurd
as congressmen too petulant to work
with others. Brother, please don’t be a jerk.

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No (Sub)Text

My promise: if I’ve
a criticism of you,
I’ll say it out loud.

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Ensconced

Away from home but on familiar land,
it’s good here now. I miss my bath and bed,
or course – amenities at my command –
but I’ve this week abundant love instead.
These people understand my heart and head
a little more than most, without a swerve
to judgment or a shrug or fancy fled.
I feel appreciation I deserve.

(Huitain)

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Motivation

Of course I wouldn’t write you to offend;
I didn’t send that text to criticize.
Why were you so inclined to cringe, distend
the tone to judge, and fire those replies
all self-reflective, immature, unwise?
I’m not a type or version on a shelf.
As much as Mom, you fail to empathize.
I’m forced to write this much, to see myself.

(Huitain)

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Cancellation

My calendar got easier last night.
My offspring have decided not to fly
across the country, toward the virus blight
that dominates Southeast. Now some may cry
they’ll miss a wedding ceremony. Right.
They won’t expose the baby or defy
the odds and carry back a viral load
as souvenir for us in their abode.

(Ottava Rima)

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Now What?

So if I understand the late reports,
the shot may not be everything we need.
Preliminary testing shows it thwarts
inflammatory storm and, yes indeed,
reduces virulence, but my newsfeed
suggests the viral load in every nose
can harm our little loved ones and impede
return to hugs. Now what can we suppose?

(Huitain)

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Whazzat?

I’ve heard the bird for weeks but haven’t seen
its size and shape, its flight or coloring.
I googled corvid calls – I played umpteen
recordings, but don’t recognize this thing.
Today I got a glimpse of white-edged wing
in glide above the garden, with that squawk
I can’t identify. Not menacing,
but suddenly I’m guessing it’s a hawk.

(Huitain)

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Warmth

An aging tabby in the house next door
extends herself on couchback every day,
to soak in sunshine warming tan velour.
My daughter’s senior dog now has a way
of napping where the furnace warms the floor,
as if the spot’s his private heat array.
I understand. I’ve gotten old enough
that I like they seek body-warming stuff.

(Ottava Rima)

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I Early Chose

I early chose refusal to a role
that mis-portrayed the person in my soul.
I recollect resisting Mom’s conceits,
rejecting school and synagogue entreats,
combating tries to channel or cajole.

They erred, and I was forced to take control.
I knew if being loved was any goal,
I had to be myself, in falls and feats.
I early chose.

And when advised to fake it (like a mole
in mask who’d sneak-collect approval whole),
from cousin counsels and best friend repeats,
I didn’t bite – I needed other eats.
I couldn’t value love I’d know I stole.
I early chose.

(Rondeau)

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Affectionate Squats

I like to think I’m agile, but I’m old.
I walk a lot. I exercise three ways.
But after new exertion, truth be told,
my muscles ache, demand a healing phase,
and then I’m fresh-astonished. Yesterday’s
acquaintance with a baby made me sore!
It’s not bad news – I suffer no malaise –
it’s from a hundred hunkers to the floor.

(Huitain)

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