Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving
My mother framed the Rockwell painting.
That image of matriarch in white apron
setting down white platter
with turkey large enough to feed
all the smiling...
Pas de Deux
In our choreography, Dad and I
had three types of dance:
the shower, the stairs, and the car.
The shower’s dance was a slow kabuki-
like...
As if England and Nature were the same,
At Williamsburg we imitate by culling
Tricorn and lace—it’s Restoration Game!
And out we strut, colonialling,
Having to mincestep Revolution...
Minute shards of glass
settle upon the bar counter
like finely milled powder
The barkeep smiles at no one in particular
as if born an automaton
No warmth offered...
I never grew out of cookies
and milk
I grew in.
Someone reflective,
not out loud.
Even behind the smoke,
I saw wheels turn and wondered
where had you gone?
Perhaps it...
Doors locked, we hide the keys
Jeans frayed across the knees
On our backs beneath the stars
Basking in an autumn breeze
She spies Polaris, points out Mars
They’re...
Glass Houses
We hide behind glass—thin, trembling breath,shattered silence,each crack a raw wound,a secret bleeding light.Truth fractures us—yet in jagged breaks,strength flickers, trembling,not a mask,...
