Thursday, January 10, 2019

Saying Goodnight, Not Goodbye

2018 was an impossible year. Most of it was too tangled up and private to share, at least in the real-time, raw-as-blood way I usually write. A great deal has shifted but much is, in practicality, exactly the same.



Aside from my family and household evolving, my inner life has quietly nudged just a tiny bit. My seesaw wildness is still a part of me but my impulses have more sensitive brakes I think.

I'm hesitant to log on and blast my ideas here until I've really examined them. I'm still mulling over the direction I want to steer this site, but the white space & silence were feeling oppressive.

Talk soon, yeah?
h


a poem:

Goodnight
---

Not goodbye,
but a stirring goodnight
like the lovely ache
of scissors’ dry rasp
through our daughter’s ponytail

Like my breasts
drying of milk

It’s the cool goodnight
of bringing in the dog

Sending the windows to bed

Windows with golden storylights
Reading and movies
in separate rooms

No lovers share
No baby
to care for

Even the dog
has been in the floor
this year of change

I whisper goodnight with
a mother’s kiss
to it all

Like her favorite book,
I put the moon to bed.

Goodnight golden windows
with respective stories,

and the dog in the floor
not best pleased

Goodnight to the twin ash trees
in the yard we still share

To the stars twinkling
above the street

With the lamp that glares
through her no-longer-nursery

Goodnight
fruitful breasts,
holding hands,
small scabbed knees

To a well worn marriage,
folded and dog-eared
and placed
in a keepsake box

with our photograph memories
of shared evenings
with the
ponytailed girl.

---
for shane, wonderful partner parent & fantastic roommate
january 2019

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