This morning’s request

It’s a bright day, just the right day to expect you to fly home. When you land, hey – give me a call – and we can let our banter roam. — A short and simple request on behalf of all who have ever endured the irritation of long-distance romance. This is also the final

You can give a heart on any day

This handmade heart hangs from a nail above my desk. I don’t remember on which day it was given to me, yet it carries more sentimental meaning than any Valentine’s token I’ve ever received. This heart has shadowed many of my poetry journeys. It has travelled with me from Cape Town to San Diego, to South America, to

Appropriate Recompense

I want an ugly pink carnation with all those serrated petals overlapping. The flower must be slightly droopy and the stem a little slimy from waiting in a bucket at the corner convenience store for those awkward evenings after a morning fight when you know, if you don’t bring home a carnation as ungraceful as

A Handmade Heart

Handmade Heart   I never got a heart kitsched out of plump red silk or fluffy between grinning paws   My heart was curved out of wire. Two little hands threaded rows of beads terracotta to brown sienna sky verde vermillion   in bedside light my wire-heart hangs glinting only for me.   2002 —