in their absence

their absence paints the walls
shades of mellow
subdued
excess energy to spend
elsewhere
than where it belongs
showered into small upturned faces
and huge wide open souls
everything influenced
by their lack
even seconds apart
not breathing
til they are back
strung out and taut like sheets on a summer line
moved only by outside winds
their absence oozes through my pores
until they’re home again

promises

it begins in the beginning
with lullabye lies

promises

of
diamond rings
ponies
and be-right-backs

fragrant words
like portals into paradise
where
suns revolve around
ME
and kindness and beauty
abound

big magnolia-petalled
promises
flourish for a short season
then disintegrate
dust to dust

til some young god
scoops the ashes
and spits
fairy tale
back into existence
…the very image of his Father…

crooning sweetness in ears
like
Christopher Williams
—promises, promises—
tone soured
vows broken

ash and dust
warmed over
now petrified
like molten lava
dried
into earthcrust
thick, expansive
an external core
which in time
might sprout life
through its cracks

universe in eternal jest
sends the very best
to tread light
across this barren ground
bringing to bear
day in day out
pudding proof
that words
both precious and cheap
are only as strong as the
company they keep
concrete foundation
shifts to quicksand
when promise is betrayed

action drowns all out
intent on full display
and the greatest gift
ever given
is the promise
never made

detour

i ask my grandma a question about anything.
her answer, a meandering trip...
through 60 year old memories, fresh as yesterday,
past character after character, too wild to be fiction;
hopscotch from my infancy backwards
to her own childrearing years,
then zoom decades ahead to last week's AARP meeting...

and somehow, in the process, while lost in her crinkly, watery eyes,
i realize i have my answer, and more than i ever knew to ask.