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Samantha’s Daily Poem

February 18, 2014

Leftover productivity

My muse carries a machete
hacking a path
through chores and doubt
and all I have to do is follow her
like a shadow

but this is different
this energy

like a fleet of mice
roosting in my head
sending me memos

I remember it from the last time
I had a baby
a leftover productivity
after the elbows and kidneys were done

I explain it to a friend
it’s like my muse had a litter

she nods
but I can tell
she wishes
I would sit down

my eyelids
don’t listen either
insisting on closing
just before dawn
and damming the flow
of all the projects
still wanting to be born.

Posted In: Creativity | no comments
February 15, 2014

Tidy worlds inside the messes

You have trained me
to listen for tidy worlds
inside the messes

like this morning
my hot rollers
all over the floor

I hear you naming them
clusters of fuzzy rollers
our neighbours on the island

the Wagners and the Bakers
and the Beggs with five small rollers
for each kid

you ask me for pennies
at which point I take off my coat
and wait
while you litter
the floor with coins

carefully arranging them
wobbly clumps
of all the people you know.

Posted In: Parenthood | no comments
February 14, 2014

A remedy for nagging

He leaves
his clothes on the floor

but before
you bite
the space between
your teeth


that one day
he will take
his breath
to the other side

and you will pick up
his clothes again

this time
to wrap them
around you.

Posted In: Relationships | 3 comments
February 11, 2014

Where did the anger go

Where did the anger go
that just a few hours ago
made my teeth hot
and my toes punch
the ends of my shoes

did it fall out
of my mouth
when I yelled

or did I flush it away
with that good cry

or was it you
that chased it away
when I heard you playing
on your own
and you said

if you are mad
press pound
for more options.

Posted In: Parenthood | one comment
February 9, 2014

That everything sky

It was the kind of sky
you talk about with cashiers
and strangers filling up with gas

a floating carpet of purple
with the sun at the edge
dunking the mountains in yellow

an impossible sky
like some kindergarten craft
made with cotton balls and scissors
and gobs of paint

a perfect sky
for a day so taut with moods

I could have laid down
and watched it
for a long time

that everything sky
turning a threat
into a promise.

Posted In: Nature | one comment
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