Monday, July 29

Infinite afternoon


I make a shape
in the dirt.
You laugh.

Our voices skitter
down the river,
beaked by birds.

How do you fix a rock?
How do you clean
the ground?

We briefly clench
and touch fingers,
forgetting together.



This broken thing,
You fix it, no
you fix it, no
one can.
Stained glass broken
with a crooked, rusted wrench.

Then, voila!
Everything hangs with string.
The light shines just so;
You put your fingers
over your left eye, and --

Then a cloud moves.
The wretched thing they call God
smirks with perfect teeth,
sips an invincible crystal martini
on a balcony. Turns away.

But the Devil helps.
He lives with your mess,
gets you out of bed
each morning.
"Try the wrench again,"
he says, loving you.

Monday, July 1

Daily Double


She has these keepsakes,
things from magazines,
things she values.

The fraying jewelry pouch
containing The Chao Hu Cards,
featuring the tiger and his friends.

The Princess Uno game,
only half of which remains,
but is still playable before bedtime.

A plastic bag of paper puppets,
too small for mommy's fingers
Unused but precious.

The Frozen™ Sticker Book,
Her name and a picture of a princess
on hundreds of little labels.

The pink GameGirl, still working,
it was mommy's, but now it's yours,
only one cartridge, but it's Mario, so.

I put them somewhere close to her bed
I put my own teddy bear by mine
and the laundry in the machine.


You love big machinery,
huge arms, claws, yellow paint
they are giant robot animals!

Their ways are mysterious.
They work, or shway jiao jiao,
they come and they go.

When we see one it's
digger, digger, digger over dere
...a big one! Wow!

We found one at night, away from our home.
Great motionless metal treads,
deforming the dirt. Sleeping.

I tried to approach with you, holding your hand.
You pulled me away, No, No, No.
I wouldn't call it fear.

We walked away, 
looking over our shoulders at it.
You waved, Bye Bye, Digger.

At home we have a book, 
The Bilingual Encyclopaedia Of Special Cars.
We flip through it quickly, pages at a time.

You say,
Digger, digger, digger, WHOA, 
a BIG one!