cherry's laughter

she would start 

laughing hysterics 

not demurely as the lady with a spanish fan

hiding her mirth

but belly shaking as the dancer with

cymbals, focusing her energy

on thumping the floor

with feet and outstretched hands 

holding a beer bottle or cigarette in the air

as if her lungs cannot hold back the tides

of comic absurdity

of tall tales of hilarity

the sound was contagious as a virus

& we would fall "dying" on the floor

her laugher now echoes in my head

like a bookmarked page

in our family's album

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics: Just for Laughs, Hosted by Mish.   Join us at 3pm EST when the virtual doors of our poetry community opens.   Thanks for your visits and comments.

French Onion Soup

When I made this soup in our first month of

marriage, it was a soggy soup of tasteless onions 

But you finished it all up anyway

Embracing me for my (lack of) cooking skills

Time was the best ingredient in the kitchen

I know that now after more than 3 decades of

family & raising the children

There is no perfect recipe to follow, but practice

makes it easier.   I didn't know that white, not

yellow onions, was the best for this recipe

That I needed to cut & stir the many layers of buttered

peeled onions (10 cups) for a long time (at least 40 minutes) in a pot

I did not know that the long caramelizing process

brings out the sweetness of the onions

Peeled away are silky translucent skin

Turning the color of char & slightly brown under the fire

Adding garlic, fresh thyme, wine & bay leaves 

Made this chicken stock richer, flavorful than I ever thought 

possible.   Pair with buttered bread and white wine

You sighed with delight over this (heavenly) soup

How is it possible that (you say) you have

never changed at all - you are still as beautiful 

when I met you.   I smiled at you and noted that you

are not wearing your glasses.   The french onion

soup made you giddy, I say.   I wipe away the

stains from my hands, now slightly wrinkled, bent & patient 

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Peeled Away with guest host Melissa Lemay.    Join us when we talk all about onions when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.    And yes, I now know how to make this delicious French Onion Soup.   

Snapshots of late May (early summer)

 

morning brings promises of peonies- 

sky mirrors an invitation-

tarry with the chores

and fold away the to-do-lists

i pause at half-planting the store-

bought vegetables in container pots-

i listen to birdsongs

& marvel the bees in the garden

the forget-me-nots dally

with blue iris & blossoming rose buds- 

the summer air is delicious

as freshly baked sourdough bread-

in a minute, wind blows white seed-

heads of a dying 

dandelion, puffy wispy clouds

beyond my grasp-

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Join us for OpenLinkNight when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

the stigmata of waiting

i sit where i have been
sitting for the last 2 weeks

in the ICU
visitor's chair, a hard & unyielding stone

you are on the hospital bed
pricked, tubes on your veins, only your lips
are silently moving in prayer

a nurse breezes in, with pills & monitor 
& I lift my head to see
if some flicking light has changed your eyes
or your limbs moved /heartbeat/

but you are so still
broken doll
as if all the words & winds in your lungs have left
as if your spine is soft clay
as your pale hands clutches a rosary
& gold banner of faith, a gift from a friend  

a reminder that the sun is pelting sunshine
outside of this curtained sterile room
i keep watch
... of nothing really ...
just keeping time until our mom comes back
from the bank & grocery shopping  

i eat 
my doubts inwardly
because I know you have been weeping
& ranting about the last month of your confinement

there is heavy sound
at the pit of my belly, wailing
of anguish, crying of missed diagnoses,
seeds of hopelessness grow despite my words

of encouragement to you
we both know that every day is folding fast
into shadows, frightening to utter:
road of no return
i pray for mercy
unthinkable ending & begin-
ning, in whatever form this may be

(i am sorry
i have to leave soon)

mom arrives, carrying 
your pain & sacrifices
so proudly, she is light you turn to
every time death 
checks in at night



February 2018.   This poem has been in my draft but I finally finished and published this for our 8th anniversary celebration.  A sad story but after 1 month of my sister's death in April, my first grandson was born.  Life goes on.


Posted for dVerse Poetics, 8th anniversary celebration with our special guest host, Brian Miller at 3pm EST.   He tells us to capture a moment in our verse.   

Happy anniversary!!!  Thank you for your visit and comments.