I’m really glad

I’m really glad my mom
Can’t see her kitchen
I know, it sounds cruel,
Like I’m happy she’s going blind
But, I ache watching her
Arch her neck, tilting her head
Toward nothing, looking
The wrong direction, eyes lost, unfocused

She wants to fix dinner
Like she used to, cook a feast
And revel in watching us
Rush toward satiation
I offer to take her to dinner
Anywhere she’d like to go
A poorly veiled attempt to distance myself
From eating from her kitchen

Tiny sugar ants,
Smaller than the ones we’d find
Summer afternoons on the curb
Aligning a magnifying glass
So the sun focused in a spot
They could not escape
We’d watch them sizzle and smoke,
Occasionally igniting a flame,
Then look for more,
Like I said these are smaller
And look black until sunlight reveals
The ruby shine of their shell,
And they are not an army
Swarming every open surface
But small groups of up to five or six,
They crawl over calcified food bits
Long past identification
On counters and in drawers
My wife and I have “deep cleaned”
On our past few visits
A conflicted attempt at love and self-preservation
Yet when we return
Our efforts have vanished
Clearly we don’t visit often enough

When sitting in my mom’s chair
By the front window
I discovered they had migrated
To the living room
There were a few on the side table
My guess is they found where she
Sets her partially eaten cookies
Or where the crumbs settle
When she flails her hands while talking
Or the syrup of her soda pop sloshes

I have tried to explain
To help her see
Little things she should do
To make it better
Only to instigate mutual frustration
That results in no change

She is at peace in her
Lack of knowing
And it may be best for
At least one of us to be
In that state these days

Hot Summer Night

Sweltering summer evening shifting toward night. Kids playing in the street.

Biggest ones wedge open a street drain. Can’t move the cover far.

Childish impulse leads to a fire. They scour for stuff to feed the beast. Flames grow and faces glow crowding to see, dripping sweat into the hole.

Someone laughs, grabs a younger child, and holds him over the blistering inferno. “Welcome to hell!” The little guy screams, squirms and begs for mercy.

Light breaks around the corner, reflecting off the eyes of each turned head. Somebody yells, “CAR!” and everyone scatters for the safety of home.

The Choir

“We really need you. One more guy and we’ll be ready be ready to tour.”

“I don’t know much about music.”

“It’s OK; you’ll equal the guy/girl numbers. Balance. Susan, she’s in the choir, and said I should talk to you. Let me show you where you’ll stand. Up here, second row, right of center. Yeah, there. Perfect. Next practice is tomorrow at 4. Can you make it?”

“I guess.”

“One last thing, just move your lips. I mean don’t sing. Susan told me about your voice. But, we really need you for look of the group. See you tomorrow…”

The Choir

“We really need you. One more guy and we’ll be ready be ready to tour.”

“I don’t know much about music.”

“It’s OK; you’ll equal the guy/girl numbers. Balance. Susan, she’s in the chorus, and said I should talk to you. Let me show you where you’ll stand. Up here, second row, right of center. Yeah, there. Perfect. Next practice is tomorrow at 4. Can you make it?”

“I guess.”

“One last thing, just move your lips. I mean don’t sing. Susan told me about your voice. But, we really need you for look of the group. See you tomorrow…”

summer

I have been trying to post twice a week. this summer I am working on some bigger writing projects that may be posted later. For the rest of the summer I am shooting for one post per week. thanks for looking in.

Take Jonah, many do

Let me ask again,
Why do we teach this stuff to kids?
These so-called “heroes of the faith”
Murderers, liars, adulterers and more

Take Jonah, many do
Four simple chapters
Each with an adventurous turn
A message, an application for the soul


1
God calls and Jonah runs
Far and fast, jumps on a boat
Can’t blame him. Who’d want to be near
Such a bossy deity?

Providence or retribution?
God sends a storm, Jonah confesses
Sailors toss him into the murk
Raging waters find their rest

The fish arrives
To swallow the man
Three days and equal nights
Dark and alone, bile and desperation

2
He prays
A fox-hole moment
A death bed confessional
An all or nothing promise

God speaks
The fish pukes
Jonah walks
On the shore

3
He obeys
(Who wouldn’t?)
Goes where’s he’s told
Spreads the news

They hear, they believe
They fall in the dust
They call on God, Jonah’s God
For mercy

Jonah’s a hero
He did God’s work
Lives were changed
All is well

4
But not for Jonah,
He’s pissed, a sulking child
“I told you so!” he blasts the Creator
“Let me die?” is his waning plea


Disobedience
Terrorized into submission
Grudging cooperation
Anger simmering into brooding disgust

Go ahead
Put a bow on it
Make it cute and sweet
Maybe, they’ll never know the difference