Monday, December 6, 2010


This poem popped in my head the morning before Thanksgiving.  I was so excited that my brother and his wife were coming to visit, and so glad our friends would be with us.  And this weird little thing just appeared.  So, for posterity:


It was you who hand-pressed the gown
of Marilyn Monroe,
caught the sequin dangling from her hip, pleated
the chiffon back in place                       
your nose in its timeless smell.

[you are the timeless]

You are the first breath of
my first born, the squall
of life
breaking the ribcage open
to the world, filling my heart
with your heart.

[you, my heart]

You are dust in the eye of Hannibal           
The wake of ocean liners
The clack of the time clock punched
over and over again
The inverted lid at Ellis Island
The pull of the jackpot.

[you are the jackpot]

You are all things
no thing
You are gifts flown here on
the wind, gifts always been.


Not gifts at all.
But evidence that life begets life,
and wills itself to be good.





  1. I wondered if you would post this, and I'm so glad you did. It will remain on our fridge all through the season, and I will feel your radiance every time I read it. Yes, I said radiance, sister. --msh