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Samantha’s Daily Poem

February 23, 2014


The radio turned on again
by itself

the first time to a great shock of yelling
as our women won a gold medal

the next time to the news
a stable voice trying to make everything
sound sober and plain

my husband calls him ghosty
this invisible guest
and wonders if he likes other things
like radio plays and jazz

life is busy
with puzzles and laundry
so there isn’t much time
to wonder why ghosty
chose us

but when the radio blasts us
with a gardening show
it makes us strangely happy
like we have done something special
like we have somehow
earned a ghost

and then my husband thinks
to ask me if the radio has an alarm
and I know it does
before I check

I tell him yes
and we laugh
realizing our son
must have been playing with it
though I can tell
by the quiet
after our laughing
that we both miss
the ghost that never was.

February 19, 2014

No such thing as garbage

I am fishing in the garbage
for the sticker I took off the apple
forgetting that you like to pretend
they are tattoos

you are a tornado
of mad and sad
while I dig and dig
like a nervous slave

I find a twist-tie instead
that I clean off
and wrap around your finger
like a ring

I love you mama

a temporary truce
in your volatile world
where there is no such thing as garbage
only lost things
that were precious.

Posted In: Parenthood | 2 comments
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
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