Divorce, Death & Taxes


49

I’ve come to realize, the day will come
My mother will die, maybe
Before my daughter is even born
It’s a cruel world, where this is possible…
Sometimes I wait for something

Special to occur, especially to me
And then I stop myself –
Feeling guilty for those with serious
Disabilities, in war-stricken countries
I’ve come to realize, my ability

To practice social justice, is limited
Like altruism turned on its head
I’ve grown weak with failure, rejection, poverty
Whereas I once wanted to change the world
I’ve come to realize, I’m not so different

After all, my mother will die
And then all this abandonment will know
That this truly is a cold cruel world
Where we are bodies in transit
I’ve dreamed enough about bodies
Maybe it’s time to be spiritual again.

The New Girl


48

One month left, before summer
I feel the weeks before Flowers
As an epiphany of dead grandmothers
Lost love, the usual things, that matter –
My life is being swarmed by little necessities
The aches that creep, the particulars
That make the years blur, I know for you
It’s hard imagine such a day will ever come
So lucid with your youthful form
Bursting in on ideas, hitchhiking your way
To maturity, every word you say
Lives desperate in me, for unanswered clues
To the meaning of life, hidden in your smile
I haven’t yet organized your impact upon me
So I let it simmer there, while we study
The unknowable truth of why I crave
The Philip Glass shattering of the insides
Of hope, that I relive destiny in you.