Words swirl like bourbon in a glass,
an arcing splatter that dribbles away.
Plans made of smoke
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#NaPoWriMo
World Abuzz
In the kitchen, I make a grocery list.
Windows flung open,
cats bake in the sun outside.
The air around me hums.
Cats run in,
bones in my head vibrate
in circles.
A hummingbird is in the house.
Whirring overhead, beak clicking
into glass, whirring, clicking.
Crouching
I crawl to the door, open it
hoping.
Zipping out, it perches atop the maple next door.
An Offering
Conversation swirls around the bloodmobile,
an iodine swab cleans my arm.
Phlebotomists discuss lunch
over my head as my blood drips
into a plastic bag.
“Vietnamese, Chinese, what’s the difference. Soup.”
I chew on a poem Sharon Olds wrote.
I suck and savor, pull the marrow
out of its bone
with my mouth,
Slide her words
over my tongue.
Spicy
Camellias
Sunny pink pom poms
fall, becoming dry brown fists
to fill compost bins.
Matrimony
There was a good fellow I knew
Chores he would happily do
But dishes in piles
were simply his style
His thoughts on this matter were few.
The Woodpecker Returns
Spring’s announced by knocks.
Wooden poles in the alley,
Removed bit by bit.
Come to me
Jasmine on spring’s breeze
Fills our house with sweet perfume,
nights full of longing.
