To My Other Favorite W.W....

I wrote a poem earlier (blame it on the Food Network) and then went into the archives. So I figured I would throw a few out there. It's interesting to read old stuff and re-live some old head space. XXXOOO


Untitled

The lasagna could have been
A lovely dinner
Or the perogies I know you love
My hopes ascend over recipes,
I make lists for all the favorites.
Fresh herbs, chicken stock,
Italian sausage, all the cheeses.
“I forgot how good of a cook you are,”
made my night.
We all forget in the fog of accusations
And lies, until the fog clears.
But then the guilt,
the guilt,
the guilt.
“Make me chicken dumplings
Forever.”
The lasagna could have been
A lovely dinner.



The Realization The Things Will Never Be The Same

Paper, like we cement
Grabs my stupid words
Permanently on page.
I stumble on my mind
Where, just to piss me off,
He lives.



Redemption

Rain drops grace
My tired face.
I tilt
My head back,
Slightly to the right
And think
About the words that have come
Out of my mouth.
So I open that mouth,
Just a tad at first,
And let the rain sink in.
I’m in Nebraska,
It is clean and pure.
I smile and walk to my car.



Kitchen Philosophy

Sit in the kitchen and think about
What you’ve done wrong this year.
It’s December,
It will take a long time.
I’ll cook you breakfast
And we can laugh about February
And cry about August.
August Twenty-Something.
The day you left me.
Everything you had entered me
And I struggle to let you go.
I’ll turn the pancakes.
You figure out where we go
When we die.