Kathy's House

I drive out of the city

Over the river and through the woods 

past the bird sanctuary

crowded as we head into winter

My mom's house

is mostly as she left it

as she lived in it

feeling as much like remains

as any body could

This empty shell 

is a museum 

to the life she lead

the person she was

and to her absence

I was holding her hand

When she drew her last breath

and I didn't let go

until the coroner came for her

Knowing I'd never hold that hand again

Now I sit in her living room

where I sat with her

through Christmas Eves

and birthday celebrations

And I don't want to let it go

she dies more with every

letting go

Mining

As I walk along the trickle of freshwater

making its way across the sand

to add itself to the ocean

I'm describing it to myself

getting the words right

to share with you

It's this way with every experience I have

gathering the words

Mining for poetry

to bring back some treasure

to share with you

Andy

 I work with Andy

He tells me he once took a year and a half

between jobs

to paint

then he got this job

thirty years ago

and he hasn't painted since

I'm new at this job

I just took a year and a half

between jobs

to write

I'm writing this now

For me

and for Andy