In the Company of Angels

I keep the photo in a box,

the box that my grandmother

gave me one Christmas,

the box that holds a single

glass angel ornament with golden trim.

I tuck the picture

underneath the angel

for safe keeping.

The photograph captures

the Christmas that you

spent with us 18 years ago

in Nashville.

This is the first Christmas

that Grand is no longer with us,

and the first Christmas 

that the two of you,

complete strangers,

will somehow keep each other

company.

Magic in the Making

The first time

I remember hearing live jazz

was in college at the

visiting writers series events.

A trio opened each evening

with a set on the theatre stage

to warm up the audience

for the featured

poets and authors

reading that night.

Sure, I had

heard of jazz

and marveled at the

magical moments

when a jazz club

was included

in episodes of

The Cosby Show

when I was a kid.

But when I first

experienced it live,

there was an

internal stirring

and connection

to the combo's

collaboration and camaraderie.

I was glad to be

in the same room

with the magic making

and the makers of the magic.

Snow Garden

Our yard was a garden
of snow and our father
was the gardener. He
made snow forts and
an obstacle course of
sorts for my sisters and
me in the front yard one
winter. It was an exciting
adventure, and a little
bit scary, but I felt safe
knowing that Dad was
guiding the sled and
guarding the fort. I still
remember his laugh
that day as we squealed
with delight, holding tight
to the orange, plastic sled.

Thrilled to Be Thirsty

I tip the cornucopia of

sound to my mouth

and drink the music

in sonic swallows,

savoring every sip

and drip and greedy gulp,

knowing that I will

never get enough;

grinning all the more,

grateful that the sounds

abound and multiply galore.

I will never get my fill.

That is not a problem,

however, but, rather,

a good old-fashioned thrill.

Some Things

Some things
silence the
professional speaker.
Some things
stump the
international intellectual.
Some things
paralyze the
confident wordsmith.
Some things...

(eyes widen:)

eyes widen:
brilliant, cranberry-
orange-colored foliage

Today Is Our One-Year Divorceaversary

Is your life

as good

now 

as you hoped

it would be?

And Yet

You broke my heart,

abandoned me,

and ended our family

and yet

I still miss you.

You Chose

You were my best friend

and partner for 16 years.

We made vows,

and built a life and

a family together.

And yet, you chose

to end our marriage,

leaving me no choice 

at all.

(Music never)

Music never

lets me

down.

Spice by the Spoonfuls

The Hungarian mushroom
soup I had at lunch
today reminded me of
Till Midnight, the
tiny cafe across
the street from
my alma mater.
I went there
once or twice as
a student, unable
to afford more
than soup, dessert
and the spicy jazz fusion
piping through the speakers.

Not Alone in My Aloneness

As essayist and American culture critic

Gerald Early said in Ken Burns'

documentary Jazz, 

"No matter how much you yearn for

community and yearn for community,

in the end there is this loneliness

and there's no way you can escape it."

No matter how much I yearn

for community and work to foster community,

in the end, it appears that my lot

in life is loneliness

and there's no way I can escape it.

Facebook from Another Perspective

I remember when I used to check

my Facebook page and you were

in our bedroom while I was in the office,

just a room away

in our house.

I remember when you were

my best friend, partner and spouse.

Now, you are merely a little circle

on my Facebook page,

living clear across the country,

in someone else's house.

Seasonal Criminals

There's something about

summertime sandals --

they're too much

to handle

when it comes to

the stench that

sweaty feet and

leather create.

My nostrils don't

celebrate or salivate about

the smell that emanates

from the partnership

that perpetrates

heinous crimes
against olfactory.

Somewhere in Between Self-Loathing and Narcissism

If you're self-loathing,

there's a deficiency

in your ability

to value yourself --

much less anyone else --

which renders you

incapable

of truly loving others.

If you're a narcissist,

you value yourself to an

unhealthy degree,

leaving no room in your

mental or emotional bank

for others,

rendering you

incapable

of truly loving anyone else.

The goal

is to live and love

somewhere in between.

Missing My Other Half

Even though I know

that you live halfway

across the country now,

I can't help but look inside

every dark red CR-V in town

to see if you

are driving it.

I know, intellectually,

that it can't be you

but, emotionally,

somehow, I hope it's you

every time.

I can't help myself.

Somewhere

in the recesses of my mind,

I'm looking for

my other half.

I'm looking 

for you.

You’re not Here

The daffodils still bloom

in the backyard,

but you're not here.

The lights that you installed

under the kitchen cabinets

are still working well,

but you're not here.

I still wake up every morning

in our bed,

but you're not here.

Death by Divorce

I was widowed at 47

not by death

but by divorce,

which is a death

all its own.

(At some point,)

At some point,

I was deemed worthy of

abandonment.