Memorial Daze

Memorial Daze

there in the tawny before glow

when my mind is most lucid

in the mist-creep a chill clinging

as a vine or diverse as a silly

graduation tassel clinging cracking

the mad plaster trap where I have

shelved your leaving me … here –

alone in the tawny before-glow

in the shimmer of tears

memorial 

No Smoke There

No Smoke There 

other people’s mothers wore skirts
and high heels even to vacuum –
she – no truck for girly silliness –
my mom wore white
sweatshirts and jeans rolled
at the bottom – bare feet in
summer 

she was a waft of Channel #5
and cigarettes bobbing up
and down while she spoke
poking holes at the world with
her index finger – she told me
her friends called her Stretch
because she was so tall …
I knew she didn’t have to reach
to touch
the tip of
the sky

my mother…
some saw just
a kid
“too young to be
in love” – but
I knew ….
I knew ….
the truth
no smoke
no mirrors