Archive for December, 2009


Ringing Out The Old (Hopefully)

I can’t believe I’ll be ringing in 2010 like this;
Without so much as a male Yorkie to kiss.
Each January 2nd, I swear I’ll come up with a better plan.
Maybe by the next time
All the stars will align
And I’ll spend New Year’s Eve with a man.


Early Discarded

Halfway to the bottom of the dumpster I lie- a bodyless teddy bear.
My head rent from my body by a display of excessive love and possessiveness-
Where was Solomon when my ownership was being disputed?
A poorly marked gift, a fight broke out, I felt a wrenching pain then there were tears all around.
Sure, attempts were made to repair me but while some hurt feelings can be easily mended little bears sometimes cannot.
Father provided distraction in the form of a jolly board game,
While Mother disposed of the disturbing evidence;
That would be me.
Santa promised a little girl would love me and so briefly I held the attention of two.
Who could have predicted I’d be spending Christmas night here among the torn wrappings, coffee grounds, and dozens of walnut shells?



Your announcement shattered my world today.
We were nearing the end of the walk;
There was a loud crack and the rain began
To fall as we passed General Burr’s apple tree.
So much that old tree has heard and observed
And so much you have missed
It’s easy to believe and almost as easy to forgive
You for mistaking the lightning’s natural destruction of the tree
For your nonchalant destruction of my heart.


Mommy, The Elephant Looks Just Like You

There are ointments to treat thin eyelashes,
Inhalers if dust makes you cough and wheeze,
But there’s nothing a doctor
Can do if you suffer
From baggy loose skin on your knees.

You can’t get an adipose injection
Or a quick tuck of the patellar skin;
The fat can migrate
And the slack cinched up tight
Will just bag out again when you bend.

Buy colorful leggings, black tights, long skirts-
In winter do all you can to hide them.
Come summer, my dear,
Resign yourself to bare
The knees of an eighty year old man.



gone in two bites,
I lick my frosted lips.
The baker nibbles at me with
His eyes.


Coffee To Tea

Rough and tumble, crude oil resembler
Agitating, invigorating, mentally stimulating
Without one Columbo couldn’t survive, the other would render Poirot uptight
Calming, soothing, lethargy inducing
Refined, relaxed


Scrooge Was Right After All

I’ll keep Christmas in my way and let you keep it in yours.
Not for me the jostle of crowds, the tinnily amplified renditions of carols in the malls;
Mothers- patience nearly exhausted- tucking frazzled hair behind one ear
As she herds children ahead of her, children bawling and bleating for toys, for treats, for a nap, for one more ride on the mechanical horse and then they promise to be good;
Drivers, once mostly fathers but now mothers too, neck stiff and eyes straining as they pilot the car and its sleeping passengers through rain or snow and darkness and endless hours on the highways and byways, tossing a couple quarters into the jar for a cup of coffee, a chocolate chip cookie, a chance to stretch road-numbed legs;
The clatter and clink of silverware and china at brunch, starched white tablecloths quickly ruined by a mimosa, a Bloody Mary, or an elbow ill-placed in the cup of much needed Irish Coffee;
Mistletoe hanging above Abe Lincoln on Main Street- am I imagining having seen it? How appropriate the old scholar should get the affection now he so often vainly craved when alive;
Hawkish east wind swooping down reminds me of the damage time has done to my body- the twisted ankle I thought was healed, once frostbitten toes, calcification and arthritis developing between shoulder and neck- and that I’m much too old on the outside to wait to shower acclaim on Santa when he appears at the end of the parade;
Give me instead a Snuggie’s warmth and a hot mug of coffee to wrap in my chilled hands;
Her tongue poking out at one corner of her mouth, a child struggles to turn felt, Elmer’s glue and a tomato soup can into an attractive present;
Mapley, pineappley hiss and pop of the ham in the oven beside the baking potatoes and the yams;
A cyclical rainbow of primary and secondary colors transforming the old aluminim tree in the corner from a misshapen agglutination of foil to sparkling centerpiece in a child’s half-remembered Christmas dreams;
And the thrumming joy of the cat getting stoned on the catnip infused scratching post we bought to save the loveseat.