​MR MORRIS AND MRS. WIFF
ARE IN THEIR 80’S 

Backyard neighbors
decades before
& three funerals later
they meet again
at the grocery store
after he’s wintered
in San Diego
Trade suggestions
for cinnamon rolls
Updates on great-
grandchildren
Spend July twilights
on her screened porch
Iced tea from a pitcher
There are story collections
to read aloud
Scrabble scores to tally
Netflix rentals DeNiro
& Streep for they have
rescued each other
 
from suppers standing
over the sink with a box
of Cheerios
telephones mute
& cobwebbed
Presented themselves
with the bouquet of
Let’s & Would you
              like to

first published by The Orange Room Review ​



PACKING A BOX
TO SEND HOME
FROM MY DAUGHTER'S HOUSE
IN PORTLAND 
 
Fold in the red dahlias bought
at New Seasons grocery;
bread made from spelt that we
toasted with garlic; emerald
lawns cushioning orange
and aqua houses.
Pack the voices of the women
in her Sunday evening circle
whose eyes glinted with warmth,
their smiles soft and gentle.
I pack the song Shady Grove
bellowed by her boyfriend;
the banter of a wanna-be
with spilling ginger curls;
the sound of the freight train
through a bathroom window
as it crossed the Willamette
in a pre-dawn chug.
Let me pack our nights asleep
with Tabby Cat on pillows;
the Belmont bus we missed
more than once to campus;
the sweet potato fries,
the chocolate pie we shared;
cherry blossoms caught
in the melody of her laughter;
the silk of our matching stride,
rain misted in her hair.



 
 
I TAKE MY HUSBAND ON A TOUR 
OF THE BLOCK WHERE I GREW UP 
 
The house with the cupcake papers cradling M&M’s
where the birthday girl bit me
           
the driveway where somebody turned me upside-down
and I peed in my ponytail
 
the hill where I sledded with my first crush
 
The park where white kids were not supposed to go,
and a rock that hit my head to prove it
 
the yard where we played Spin-the-Bottle
and Danny Shane’s kiss tasted like 7-Up
 
The porch from which I got banished by Debby Bauer’s mom
for telling her little brother to pull down his pants after Debby
said Clark will do anything you tell him Even pull down his pants
 
the garage where Catholic girls kneeled to pray
every time they heard an ambulance siren
 
The sidewalk where I raced Nick Potter and won despite being
two feet shorter; the retaining wall that helped me ride my first
bicycle; the bushes where I found a stolen wallet; the curb where
 
we waited till midnight in our pajamas
for JFKennedy’s motorcade to drive by