(Miles Davis on tap)

Miles Davis on tap
grape juice in the stereo
a New Year's Eve day

(Christmas cat)

Christmas cat –
bedside greeting
begins with a pounce

(sampling of the city)

sampling of the city:
snaking post office line
10 days before Christmas

How My Sister Discovered That I Was in Love with Her Best Friend

"You would NEVER
do that for me," she said
in a huff, half shocked;
half outraged after learning
that I had treated J.J.'s
soup bowl like an underwater
hunting expedition --
navigating around the
diced carrots and potatoes,
green bean cuts, petite
peas, navy beans and
conchiglie to fish out
the kidney beans
that J.J. despised
so much. I shrugged
my shoulders, smiled
and stared at the floor
for a few seconds until
J.J. changed the subject,
wondering if we would
see snow that night.

Thanksgiving Traffic

Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.

(the leaves mimicking)

the leaves mimicking
the sound of raindrops in the
wooded autumn hills

(eyes widen)

eyes widen:
brilliant, cranberry-
orange-colored foliage

(morning tea after)

morning tea after
the morning rain
drop after drop

Happy National Coffee Day!

the smell of a coffeehouse:
one of the things I fell
in love with in college

(Two squirrels and two robins)

Two squirrels and two robins
scampered away through the trees
like Noah's ark escapees.

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.

(Marriage is)

Marriage is
telling each other
what to do with our sores.

Co-written by Rebecca Davenport

(Golden)

Golden:
A grandmother's love,
like the arms of the sun

(the cardinal)

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca J. Davenport for a spectacular ending

A Letter to the Predator

Dear straight Christian friend,

When you post a picture of
a burning gay pride flag online,
I am not merely encountering
an expression of an opinion.
I don't simply see a person
making a statement
about an issue.
I don't view it as
an individual "deeply devoted
to a faith based on mercy and grace"
taking a stand amidst a culture war.

I see my friend
advocating -- and perpetrating --
violence against me.
I feel threatened
and frightened
and sickened.
I see -- with my own eyes --
my friend proclaiming
to me and the world
that I am worthy of abuse.
I witness my friend
declaring me fit for
gasoline
and matches
and burning flesh
and torture
and death.

I see that my friend --
my "loving, compassionate, Christ-like" friend --
is not, in fact, my friend at all.

-- Your gay neighbor

Presents from Dad

He was so excited to bring "surprises"
home to us, whether it was a $5 movie
from McDonald's, Sam's Club chocolate
chip cookies, or a two liter of Dr. Pepper.
My sisters and I would laugh at him
and try to downplay his "treats," but it
was his simple, silly, contagious joy
that made the best gift of all.

Woman of the Word

for Julie Jarrett Hall

I remember walking through the backyard
behind our little brick house, singing the lines
to your songs during my afternoon playtime.
I felt important, knowing all the words and
the melodies. Proud of myself, I sang the
verses and choruses out loud, feeling some
sense of connection with your songs and
with you. On those hot summer days, I was
proud of myself, proud of you and proud
to be your daughter.

Happy National Poetry Month!

Why Bother With Poetry

Why bother
with poetry?
Because you're
human.  And,
from time to time,
we humans need
to be reminded of
what's important
in life,
an invitation
to laugh at ourselves,
a spotlight on
injustice in the world,
and permission
to pause, reflect and wonder.

Sticky Fingers: Like a Kid in a Candy Store

Dear Co-worker:

My candy dish is a gesture of goodwill -- meant to be
visited a couple of times during the workday in moderation --
not a vehicle by which to fill your child's entire Easter basket.

Signed,
Your Supposed Sugar Mommy

(Diarrhea)

Diarrhea:
An ugly word to spell;
an even uglier one to expel.

Happy Valentine's Day!

real love: standing in
the bathroom while your partner
poops, just to catch up

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.

(I'm too sad to take)

I'm too sad to take
the Christmas tree down; it looks
too sad to leave up.