There are things that break--
I have been one of them. A pile
of yesterday trapped in my shirt pocket,
three minutes of fear-- this is not a list.
I am not a list.
I can't remember ever hearing my dad
pray. I can't remember the last time
I knelt down. I might walk away.

She was like marmalade

She walked like the ocean-- each
step a blue wave of length and balance.
She sang like the misty mountains-- each
note a deer lapping the crystal pool with his pink tongue.
She had fingers as long and slender as centuries,
a belly made for times of labor, the mark of
strength under her eyes.
She was like marmalade-- coloring
everything with life, but she
still wasn't enough.