Monday, April 21, 2008

Spring at 50

I drove alone to the clinic.
Heavy traffic.
Heavier cloud cover.
The wind chill minus 17C
well below average highs.

No average April,
After seven perfect months
of waiting
Alone I sit in the waiting room
Cheap coffee tables hold magazines
with cancer cures and airbrushed girls
The reception counter mercifully high
I don’t have to avert my eyes

No average doctor,
Here. Mid-morning at the specialist
and no waiting
I’ve been here before
at six weeks gestation
That turned out well if you don’t
count the ways he contradicts
me at every turn
my lone child.

in winter’s pale I undress
from the waist down
and wonder
if he also meant socks

I study
while I wait, the Feminine
Reproductive System
He enters
alone says that’s how it’s supposed to look

At his questions
I chant rehearsed history
family conditions
who’s had What and the Associated Risk

Not your average ovary
Left one
Fully involved fibrous

Needs to come out
to make sure
it’s benign

Nurse should have kept quiet
as she booked it mechanically
24 hour stay
general anesthetic
Must be big if he wants it this quick.

I drive away
unnecessary errands
report to Brent mechanically
discuss convenient date.

At home
I sit with the dog
curl under comforting fleece
drink wine
eat chocolate and tears

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

View by Request

Light on the bough tip
at the spruce top
starling rock me to rest in my nest

Alain Caron and Jazz Café
provide dancing music
for ears worn of winter’s howl

sweet cool breeze
smoothe away thought
of wintertaut skin

moist clouds
wash mountain tops and eyes
with glad tears for April sun

liquid lips kiss
away thoughts
of too-long nights

and wafting warmth from fresh earth
still my face
to taste the tannins of Easter peace.

Shaking Hands with Death

I don’t need
to shake your hand
We’re already
well acquainted

I banged on the nursery glass for three days
while you tortured little niece
Not content with torn hearts in January
you Marched on Jack

I broke my nails grabbing for you –
too late you slipped past the tree
where his car and my fingers
felt your splinters

My pregnant fist in your face
with the baby’s six week crisis
You skulked away then
but haunt every day he lives

I released
with relief
when Ali fell down
to heaven

I tried to push you away
as I guarded mother
and you said
“Don’t touch me.”

With Dad I slapped you
and he slipped
right through
my fingers to yours

In every night you taunt me
I fall, I search, I grieve
for all you have taken
loved ones, beloved dreams

Yes, I’ve touched you often
You’ve lived with me
As I finger the tear-catching hole
Where my heart used to be.

Chasing Scars

There’s a habit I don’t want to break
A longing that’s never fulfilled
The promise I won’t have to make
Expectation I haven’t yet willed

Release all bands and all boundaries
Surrender to the greatest need
Awaken the fire of Your foundries
To sear the wounds that still bleed.

Daily Cross

I’d like to have a proper burial
For all the things I’ve left undone
Words unsaid, love unspoken
Times I walk instead of run

I want praise so oft I dangle
Gracious acts of kindness wrought
To be viewed from every angle
By the ones whose praise I’ve sought

Yet my heart in grief unmeasured
Knows the vacant stare of pain
I would die to know Your pleasure
Help me find Your heart again.

Lay me down beside these treasures
Take my life and let it be
One that fully always ever
Gives and lives and loves like Thee.

You Drag Me

through the rose garden
kicking and screaming I inhale
the sweetness of your glory

I criticize your colour choice
You catch my stumble
over thorns and thrown rocks

I'm so busy falling
into the bush I don't see it


Inhale captured sun
from combed cotton on bare skin

Whispers of melted vanilla
in the black currant curve of chest

Collapse in the caress
of caramel cream cheeks

Drink blueberry eyes
and lemonmint lips

Deeply inhale where you cannot eat
this is the memory of love.