Поврежденные дети*

My ovaries tug
when we watch the Russian documentary
and how I'd love to take them all
scoop them up,
see that their stories not end
in the dark corner of a ward
Or the milk-sour sheets of a barred crib.

These children need light

light, and love
(and I have so much love to give)

But my arms cannot stretch across the ocean.
They are too far,
and cannot be comforted.

Reality is a bitter pill, twice-swallowed.

*The Damaged Children

falling in love on vacation

You flicked your hair
out of your eyes and pointed, lazily.

Look, there.

We watched
thundering herds of alpaca
disappear over the mesa,
and then focused back on each other, dipping our toes
back into the rock-lined pool that meanders down the mountain.

Your skin was cool while my heart echoed their hooves.

Where would you be, today?
Are you all grown up
with kids
and a wife
and a dog
a horse ranch in the shadows of the hills?

and vague memories
of a summer long ago
with sun baked rocks and a lisping waterfall in the background

and a girl-woman whose heartbeat
was in time with yours.

Maybe you don't remember.

But
I
do.

Ah bah cah

After sweltering through the usual housework

it's almost relaxing
(almost)
to go through the sounds of the alphabet together
(almost reading! whee!)

but damn it's hard to fake enthusiasm
for those damned
phonics

again.

Somewhere in the back of my head I thought you'd absorb
this too, like
you've picked up on almost everything else your big brother does.

More fool me.

Ah?
Bah?
Cah?

This is a little like potty training.

And a lot like hell.

roadside stop

Pulled off and parked
grass in front
pavement in back

Cars flitting like bright berries through
the green of the opposite bank

Sitting here is soothing and an urban reminder all at once.

The women in the car next to me do not enjoy the view.

Instead they huff on smokes
bicker exquisitely about something
borne away on the wind

like the last of the petals off the pollution-stunted cherry tree.

the best thing is you

Last night
we took a walk after supper
bellies full, comfortable with the company we were in
followed the sighing reeds and sand
along
the scuffed path
and to the wide-open
mind-open
beach.

We
were only there for the stroll
to hold hands and brace against the wind
but of course
because it's the ocean (the ocean!)
we rolled up our pantlegs

and stumbled through the icy waves.

There are pretty pebbles on the floor of the sea.
I reached down, down
fingers shocked icy white sticks of chalk, blurring in the water
bringing up
the sweetness of the falling night.

Treasures, all.

matinee

Even cold popcorn can't compete with this.

The way your hand grips your cup and your teeth dent the straw
and your whole being seems lifted up and away among the stars.

You bite your lip and peer up through your bangs, groping for the last milkdud as the theme music
swells

and crescendo

and your face bursts back into familiarity with the rolling of the credits.


'That was great, Mom', you say, and hop down, ready to
kick ass on the video games in the lobby.


You've been the best date I've had in ages. Wanna go out next weekend?