A Letter to My Other Half

Why can’t we

ever agree?
I say yes.
You say no.
I say A.
You say Z.
Some call us
opposites,
but we’re a perfect
match.
You’re the heater
to my cold hands,
the push
to my pause,
the miracle cream
to my wrinkles,
the pen
to my pad.
When we’re
old & senile,
I suppose
then
we’ll see
that
all along we agreed
on everything
between
A & Z.

We Make the Perfect Pack

For today’s prompt, write an alpha poem. Of course, you could write a poem about an alpha male or alpha female (or some other play on alpha this or that). Or you can move into the realm of an alphabet poem–focusing on all 26 letters or just one (or a pair).


* * *

Death of the Old Self

Once upon a time,

she hitchhiked toward bright,
scampered with Buddhas
& gods
because she didn’t fit in-
                     side
anyone else’s box
                    (or mind).
She drifted like ash,
disembodied thoughts
with nowhere to go
but to the fiery bottom
of burned timber,
           brick,
                     & stone.
Now the dented base
of her metal urn rests
on a mantel
     & she wonders
(how she made that mistake)
     if there’s anyone
else
around
     and how she ever
    allowed herself
to snuff out
her own
               light.

Spill My Ashes in the Garden Instead

For today’s prompt, write a once upon a time poem. The title of the poem could be “Once Upon a Time,” or the first words could be. Or you could do what I did in my attempt below: I pretended the words “once upon a time” preceded the first line of my poem.

* * * 

Rest in Peace

I wrote the below poem in late November when my beloved India first started showing signs of deterioration. Loyal as she was, she had trouble saying goodbye. I had trouble saying goodbye. Yesterday, we finally did.

Resisting Arrest

Dog tracks line
the kitchen floor.
They smell of

blindness &

rotten teeth.

They lead to stains

of a future,
     buried, like her

cherished bone.

The dog rests

on the bedroom

floor, too tired

to make it to her

(death) bed,

too tired
to die today. 

It’s been a day since we parted. My heart still hurts. She was my guide through loss after loss—cancer, heart failure times two, cancer, cancer, cancer, people who fit into that whole seasons, reasons, and lifetime category, and on and on it went for what seemed like forever.

I have been working a lot today but decided to take a walk. Normally I see a few rabbits when I leave my house. But today they were everywhere. Next it was the lizards. To my right, to my left.

I got a little farther and my intuition told me to take a different route. And there it was. One of the pennies my father likes to leave in my path. Then the little tree. Another symbol I associate with him.

I started to feel a little better, yet soon India popped back into my head. My heart sagged with sadness again. Until nature, magical nature, swooped in to surprise me.

Some sort of winged beetle zoomed in front of me and landed on my sleeve, causing me to look up. 

There, staring at me, was this message, hand painted on a rock: Have faith and you will never walk alone.

A Gift from #LetsRockAmerica

From Dad? From India? That part doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I felt someone watching over me, an otherworldly presence. And I know that when I walk, all those who’ve flown from my life, still walk beside me.

My Sweet India

* * * * *