Cono Morning (written fall 2008)

Tender new morning light peeks through my blinds

I hear the familiar thud and padding of feet

Clad in footed princess pajamas

Coming tentatively down the hall

They stop at my door

I pretend to be asleep

Wishing she will give up

And pad her way back to bed

The door cracks open

Through squinted eyes

I see such sweet wispy blond curls

Such hopeful blinking blue eyes

That I can’t help but smile

Her mouth, curled tightly around a shriveled thumb,

Breaks into a grin and her eyes leap with joy

She laughs, dashes for my bed,

Dingy pink blanket dragging behind,

And scrambles up beside me

Snuggling in, she wrinkles her nose in a grin

And nuzzles my face

“I wuv you, Mommy”

I nuzzle back and breathe her hair in

There is a thumping from the hall

A crib rail vigorously thudding back and forth

Then the banging of a sippy cup on the wall

Hannah is delighted, “Emma’s awake!”

I hoist my heavy, pregnant belly out of bed

Hannah runs ahead of me, “I want my juice!”

The banging continues, faster now

“Stop it, Emma!” an annoyed voice calls

Now it is me peeking in their door

Emma is pleased

She smiles, binky dropping from her mouth

And strains to reach me over the crib rail

Naomi rolls in her bed,

Brushes her long, frizzy hair from her face

“Mommy, Emma woke me up”

“Me too” I sigh

Now there are six feet clad in footed jammies

Toddling, thudding eagerly to the kitchen

Jumping in anticipation

As I dole out watered down juice into three sippy cups

They gulp happily

Hannah blinks up at me,

“Mommy is your baby kicking?”
“Not right now”

“I think our baby is nocturnal” Naomi advises

“My baby’s kicking,” Hannah beams

Then lifts her shirt, “Wanna feel it?”

I place my hand on her tiny, thin tummy

And pretend to feel a kick, she is satisfied

I gaze at their faces, their eyelashes, chapped cheeks

And try to memorize each detail

Some morning I will wake up alone

It will be a foggy memory

I want this morning to be as crisp and alive then

As it is now

Some morning sleep will be plentiful

But there will be no wrinkled, grinning nose to nuzzle mine

No footed jammies to lead me to the kitchen

Some morning this morning will be a memory

Prognosis (Poem for Naomi, written around 2011)

Infinitely complex

Untenably marred

Boundlessly resilient

This child in my arms

Swollen belly

Crooked feet

Crossing eyes

Murmured beat

Liver scarred

Kidney cysts

Endowments of

A genome glitch

Devalued, dismissed

I cradle my girl,

Shielding her spirit

From a misjudging world

Which gene encodes

Her gift for art,

Her passion for books,

Her merciful heart?

What nucleic acid

Could portend

Her affection for horses

Her first best friend?

And which base pair

Might empower

Her compassion for

A frost-nipped flower?

Which locus holds

Her giddy smile?

What helix encrypts 

The soul of a child?

What white-coated Einstein,

What world-wide reserve

Of human insight

Can presume her worth?

Infinitely complex

Untenably marred

Beyond their prognosis

A child in my arms

Wanderlust and Dinner

It isn't that there is anything wrong here
It's more that I am here again
Here at the kitchen sink with my hands in luke-warm water
Scraping bits of sticky dried bread from the bread-maker pans
Again

Here pulling steamy silverware out, putting greasy silverware in
Crunching Rice Chex under my feet and sighing
And sweeping
And wiping
Again

Here filling bread-maker pans with water, oil, and yeast
No measuring spoons needed
Each bit slipping in from memory
And I'm unsure whether this automated accuracy
Amazes or disgusts me
This orchestrated kitchen dance
My pride and my drudgery

Monotony
Mon…o…ton…y…

Lord, I'm gagging here
Gagging on monotony
Send me anywhere, but not to dinner
Not to the quiet, not to the usual
Not to the faithful ordinary

Please, poet friends, take me away
Sarah, Audrey, Andrew, Rich
With my hands in the water
Sing my heart out of this
Lord, help me offer this

Deep breath in
Smile at these tiny hungry taskmasters
Catch them in a hug as they run by
Reign me back from wanderlust
From all the worlds I'd rather spend today in
Heart, don't choke on those sweet lies

Potatoes, wash potatoes
Slice the peppers, thaw the meat
Find the rhythm and the music
In the steady, in the staying
In the never trading them for me
The offering

In a world of leavers leaving
Wandering after their dislocated souls
Stay. Right. Here.
With your hands in the water, dear heart
Stay here and decide to sing

Stay and chop potatoes
Pour yourself out again
And again
In the ordinary
In the never-heroic, rarely-seen, often-snubbed
Dinner
And when you stay, dance

Set a table with stability
Generosity
Less of me
More of "How was your day?"
(I wanted to run screaming from the kitchen but I didn't)
"Are you hungry? I made a plate for you"
"It's in the fridge, do you want me to warm it up now?"

It isn't that I'm doing anything grand here
It's more that I'm cleaning up dinner again
In a world of leavers leaving
Here with my hands in puke-warm water
Elbow-deep in monotony
In less of me
This heart is set on staying
And tonight is set in peace