A Lack

Tall meagerness

looms above my cold day.

Greatly desired ghosts

refuse to descend from the trees.

While vegetables sleep in

the earth,

hunger tugs at them gently

trying to lead them to birth.

I feel empathy.

So little to see.

So little to say.

The height of my soul

An inch above sea level.

Above me,

a lack.

Growing Up

Kindred cartwheels

spread like a virus

from child to child.

The cotton candy machine

spins discarded hair

like it was cotton.

The children are always awed

by the taste

of old age on their tongues.

Behind the tent,

parents time stamp

the infants

and tattoo names on each other.

Little rollercoasters

struggle for an

adolescent speed.

Submission

God filtered through rain,

six color promise.

The sun he forged

burning my toast from

the immunized difference

between us.

My promises are colorful too.

Purple promise to my husband,

to love the landscape of

his judgments.

Red promise to absorb his kisses,

squeeze mine out on his

body like a lotion.

Yellow promise of waiting

for him in the gaps.