Here are a couple poems I wrote during a course last term:
Dust
What holds together
dead bugs and old books
until
A touch
Crumbles senescent fibers into dust?
Dust that sits invisible until company visits.
I swab the silver sugar bowl and
Take samplings from door frames.
The couch is again a collage of clothes and dishes.
Kieran sits dusty on the coffee table,
his long cat tongue drinking tea from a mug.
Dust in the corners of the mug,
the tongue bringing dust to his mouth.
I live on the unseen side of blackboards,
where chalk dust convenes daily, yearly.
On their side is written, “You are dirt.”
Dirt that breathes, that writhes, that grows.
These, the innocent ones, our former selves
The selves that can say “I’ll try,”
when I can say only
“I’ll never stop biting my fingernails.”
Small slivers of fingernails that
disassemble themselves and become
the dust I sweep, the dust I accept, the dust I hoard.
Who gets to be the dirt?
When the sun daily reaches the crust of the earth
It says to the dirt, “Wake up.”
It says to the dust, “Sleep.”
Where I’m From
I am from sour books and incense sticks,
from Lincoln Logs and Molly McIntire.
I am from upside down bikes and pan-hot manholes.
I’m from bark mulch, from lost golf balls,
from tree swings.
I’m from promise rings.
I am from swimming pools and from ice plant stains.
I am from tree forts and from tree trunks wrapped
in Christmas lights.
I am from sister fights.
I am from Bullfrogs and Butterflies, from
Schmetterling du kleines ding1.
I am from Minuet in G and
long-skirted walks on rainy nights.
I am from red roofs, brown roofs, steep roofs,
and roofs six stories high.
I am from lattice-top pie.
I am from Bertil and from Lynea.
I am from Uff-da!, Ris Gryns Grot2,
and My Lord, what love is this?
I am from a spin the bottle kiss.
I am from spritz cookies and Finish your dinner first.
I am from Oui, ça va bien3, from Solfegietto,
and from Karen’s dimpled left cheek.
I am from her widow’s peak.
I am from the insides and outsides of apples,
and from holding my breath too long.
I’m from no one ever stays.
I’m from I will be with you always.
I am from amor: Quien lo probó, lo sabe4.