The Kitchen

I'm standing in the kitchen;

what was our kitchen.

You had a baking nook

in our kitchen,

a nook in which you prepared

homemade pizza and

gourmet cheesecake.

We shredded the mozzarella

by hand, always saving a 

little bit for our puppy dog,

so you could pour a pile

onto the floor for her to enjoy --

the same floor on which

we would occasionally drop

ice cubes, which she would

promptly grab in her mouth

and relocate to the living room

rug to chomp on.

Now the kitchen is quiet.

There is no more

homemade cheesecake

or cheese on the floor

or a doggie to eat it.

There is no more you.

There is no more Us.

Teeming with Loneliness

I miss being a team,

a feeling you don't understand,

because you teamed up

with someone else

well before our divorce

was final.

Caught Flat-Footed

I was all in.

You were the only one

on my dance card.

But it often felt like

you had one foot in

and one foot out.

 

Twelve years into our marriage,

you started playing footsie

with someone else,

followed by the hokey pokey.

Before I knew it,

you put your whole self in

with your new best friend.

You always were

a dancer at heart.

I just assumed that

you would always be my partner.

Timing

It's been nearly nine months

since you told me that you

weren't in love with me

and considered our marriage

to be over,

nearly three months since you

moved out of our house, and

nearly two months since

the divorce was final.

I still think about you

all day, every day.

Even after all the damage

you have done, I'm still

in love with you.

And I loathe you

for destroying our family.

Housebroken

It's heartbreaking

to live in our house

without you.

Every Little Thing

I miss all of our

everyday traditions --

calling baked potatoes "tates,"

enjoying

"Whoppers on the Waterfront,"

and taking family trips

in the car -- just us and the pooch.

I miss seeing you bounce

and bee bop on the couch

to music just for fun.

I miss our inside jokes,

our daily family routines,

and our 16-year history,

a history that made me feel

safe and grounded and wanted.

I miss everything.

I miss you.

I miss Us.

A Penny for Your Thoughts

Every time I trim my fingernails,

I think of our precious puppy dog

who would drop everything

and sprint into the bathroom

when she heard me trimming my nails.

I'm not exactly sure what she was

hoping to do, but she wanted to be

as close to the action as possible.

Doggone, do I miss her...

Different Philosophies on Giving

I gave you the best years of my life --

31 through 47 --

and then you gave me the heave-ho.

Another Goodbye

I remember how ecstatic

our beloved doggie got

when she heard me

refilling her food storage container.

She would race down the stairs

as fast as caninely possible

to be as close to the food

as she possibly could,

hoping that I might spill a few

kibbles, or pour a pile

on the floor for an impromptu snack. 

Tomorrow, I will take the container

to Goodwill, as she is no longer here,

in what was our house.

From 100 to 0

How do you stop

loving someone?

How do you go from

talking with someone

every day, sharing every day

with them, and operating as a team

100% of the time

to

zero, nothing, nada, zilch?

One

You had so many names

during our 16 years together --

One, Bahboo, Baby, BB, Honey,

Babe, Sweet Feet, One Two,

Lover, Baby One, B1, Bee Bop...

Now, you only have one name:

Ex.

Haunted House

I'm haunted by the

ghosts of my former spouse and

precious puppy pie.

A Figment Among the Footage

Now, you seem like

a phantom,

a fragment,

a figment

of my imagination.

But, I have 16 years of

photos and footage and

an entire house of

evidence and artifacts

documenting that

we were,

in fact,

a "we."

Happy Halloween

I'm sitting in a rented cabin

in Saugatuck, Michigan,

thinking of you

in Dallas, Texas; wondering

if you are thinking of me.

Inside Out

Why can't I dig you

out of my heart

like a cantaloupe's seeds

so that I can rid myself

of the pain and the memories

and the utter devastation,

and move on to 

enjoy the sweet fruit of life?

Fire and Ice

Everything hurts.

Every second I see

something you bought,

we bought, together,

my heart burns.

Even the frozen fruit

you bought for us

and left behind

in the freezer

kindles the fire in my chest.

What Good Is It to Keep Me Alive at the Beginning Only to Kill Me at the End?

You told me that

we kept each other alive

during our first

few years together --

during the years that

we lost everything

and everyone.

But, 16 years later,

you walked out on me

and left me to die

in our big house alone --

the house that you picked out,

the house that you outfitted

with the things that you wanted,

the house that has your fingerprints

all over it.

So, I am left here to die alone,

surrounded by every reminder of you

and the fact that you left me here.

Divorce Deflation

The presence of a

healthy spouse

enlarges your life,

expanding your personhood

into a more well-rounded state.

And when they 

divorce you,

you are forced to

fold in on yourself,

squeezing out

the expansion of

heart and soul

that you previously enjoyed,

in order to survive the pain.

Beeping and Barking

Whenever I hear the neighbor

backing his truck into his

driveway, I think of our puppy,

who always barked ferociously

when she heard his truck beeping.

(You are)

You are

never coming

home again.

CR-V

Every time I see a 

dark red CR-V,

I will forever

think of you

and Us.

Laundry Basket

We used to argue

all the time about

sharing the laundry basket.

We finally got a second one

and enjoyed relative peace

on that front.

Now, you're gone

but your laundry basket

remains behind

just like me.

Junk Drawer

We've been amassing

our junk drawer

for 13 years -- through

two apartments, one condo

and one house,

our house.

Its contents tell the story,

our story.

Wednesday, you are leaving

it all -- our junk drawer,

our house, our life -- behind.

Legally Separated

We used to keep our

legal documents together

in our safe box.

Now, my files are in our

safe box alone

and yours are in an

orange folder

waiting to move to Texas

with you.

How?

How am I supposed to share a home

with you and every day together for

13 years

and then, all of the sudden,

never see you again?

How am I supposed to live in our home --

the house you picked out --

with you every day

and then, all of the sudden,

live alone here without you?

How am supposed to live in our home --

a house filled with the things that we lovingly

curated and carefully collected together --

surrounded by everything that belongs here

except for you?

The Unraveling

I feel the tug on the seams

of our marriage,

as, thread by thread,

we unravel the tapestry of Us

that we've woven together

over the last 16 years.

All Hollows’ Eve

My heart has been

hollowed out

like an October pumpkin.

Phantom Heart Syndrome

I no longer have a heart,

but a cavern in my chest

glowing with pain.

Connection

My poetry blog

is the vehicle by which

you first felt connected to me.

Now it is the vehicle through which

I must disconnect from you.

Three Gals

I will never see a dog and

not think of you two.

Doggone

You entered my life

with a dog

and you exited my life

with a dog.

(I feel)

I feel

rudderless

without you.

The Difference

I'm in the office

finishing my workday.

You are downstairs

baking a cheesecake.

The dog floats between

floors, scouring the kitchen floor

for graham cracker crumbs, napping next to you

on the couch between baking steps,

and popping into the office to say hello.

At some point,

you both come into the office,

you to talk about the grocery list,

and the dog to roll around

on the floor to scratch her back.

We are existing

and coexisting

harmoniously, as a unit,

as a family.

The difference is

I want to continue

doing this with you

and you want to do this

with someone else.

(My heart is no longer)

My heart is no longer

a healthy muscle, but merely a

mass of scar tissue.

I Miss Your Scent

I've taken to smelling your shirts

while you are at work,

knowing that they

will not be in our house

for much longer.

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.

(eyes widen)

eyes widen:
brilliant, cranberry-
orange-colored foliage

(Golden:)

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

(morning tea after)

morning tea after
the morning rain
drop after drop

Summer Simplicity

As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.

(The tree bark gleamed)

The tree bark gleamed
with fresh raindrops as
the squirrel scurried home.

(the three fragrances)

the three fragrances
of the neighborhood: Downy,
lawn mowers and grills

(the cardinal)

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca Davenport for a spectacular ending

Sunflowers and Birch Trees (Let It Be)

Just as there is
a myriad of
flower varieties
on the earth and
a host of tree species
in the world,
there are countless
types of women
on the earth and
innumerable sorts of men
in the world.
"Flowers" are not
confined to "lilies"
and trees are not all oaks.
The earth is a beautiful space,
thanks to the
vast array
of flowers and trees
on display.
A world which awakens
to the full spectrum
of femininity and masculinity
is a glorious place.

(summertime snow)

summertime snow
cottonwood seeds
float, flit and blow

PRIDE Open Mic Night

I plan to read three poems at this year's PRIDE Open Mic Night, as a part of Holland's 2023 PRIDE celebration.

Thursday, June 1, from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m.

Herrick District Library

300 S. River Ave.

Holland, MI

 

Join us!

(My heart feels like it)

My heart feels like it

has been hollowed out by a 

steely ice cream scoop.

(I danced with a bumble bee unwittingly)

I danced with a bumble bee unwittingly
during my afternoon walk
very carefully.

(My heart feels like a)

My heart feels like a 

cavernous chamber housing

only broken glass.

Poached by an Egg

Finished the last of
the hard-boiled eggs
this morning and
stabbed my thumb --
the shell shards
actually drawing blood.
I never knew
Easter eggs could
be so violent.

(a fine Sunday morning flapjack breakfast)

a fine Sunday morning flapjack breakfast

including one, petite pancake

for the pup

Apparently, Americans Like Their Men to Look Like Grown Adults and Their Women to Look Like Teenage Girls

Why is it that,

when a male is young and thin,

in hindsight, we say, "Ha!  Ha!  He looked like a kid!" --

while, at present,

after years of filling out,

he "finally looks like a man,"

while, at the same time,

when a female is young and thin,

in hindsight, we say, "She looked fantastic!" --

while, at present,

after years of filling out,

she "has really let herself go"?

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.

For What It’s Worth

When a musician dies,

I read their obit,

buy one of their records,

and study their story.

I want to honor their life

and their work,

their life's work

and their life's worth.

(the smell of a coffeehouse:)

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