Have you ever seen a chimp’s hands?
His were exactly like that.
Leathery Weathered Stained
From 50 years of farm work.
Today I see those hands
Moving chess pieces around the board
Masterfully

A moment of dissonance.
Like snow falling on the Visayas,
It was that strange to me.
Simple man, where did you
learn this sophisticated play?
In your tiny village on the remote Philippine island?
Knight to G-5, takes Bishop
He glances up and smiles.

Your skin is so smooth.
My fingers trace your gentle curves.
Just the right amount of firm and supple.
I bring you close – you smell of summer, of sunshine.
I smile

The blade of the knife catches the sun as it pierces your skin
I pull downward
Hard
The skin rips.
Wetness drips
From your exposed flesh.

I see what I have done.
I can’t stop myself.
I cut again
Again
and AGAIN.

I tear you apart.
Ignoring the voices of fairness and reason
That might have – should have – stopped me.

My children’s eyes fill with horror as they witness the frenzy.
They plead, “No, Daddy, Stop!”
I turn to them
Dripping knife in hand
“Do you want some of this?”

They shake their heads and back away.

Good.

This last orange is mine.

I’m Used to Ugly

When physical rejection is as familiar as
Morning coffee

When nice clothes are an unneeded luxury

When the after version of your morning ablutions
No longer result in an uplifting, “You look good”

You get used to ugly.

When you have 2 sets of nice clothes - that are years old

When you do not go anywhere that requires nice things

When your job is semi-professional

You get used to ugly

When your self-deprecating humor is more true than not

When you encourage your spouse to do things without you

When being alone is a better choice than being out there

You get used to ugly

The error message reads: Out of memory.
Its capacity has reached its limit.
But the ‘memories’ that it possesses are touchstones on my family’s journey together.
My son’s tiny five year old fingers learned to navigate MacOs on this computer, with this trackpad.
My daughter’s poems were composed here.
Hundreds of papers, presentations, employee reviews,
and math lessons were clicked and dragged into existence here.
Inside its silicon brain are thousands of family photos, bits of music, and other ephemera meaningful only to us.
Truly, this old computer is our family’s memory box.

No tender words
In gilded script
Will appear on Mother’s Day

No bright bouquets
Family photos or
Teddy bears
Will clutter where you lay

In your life you had no time
For sentiments such as these
You’d rather we spend the money
On cornbread and chili beans.

Buy some toilet brushes and bathroom grout,
I can hear you say,
Or better yet,
Buy the kids some clothes
And put them on lay-a-way.

Don’t shop at those expensive stores
When Walmart works just fine
Why pay $1.62
When you can get it for $.99?

You’d tell us not to bother
Getting cards or presents
But on Mother’s Day you’d be irate
Because we actually listened.

So on Mother’s Day in ‘17
Your gift will be the same
A reused box from Amazon
Where we just X’d out the name
Inside the box are useful things
That do not cost a lot

From discount stores and sales racks
To keep the prices down
We’ll donate them to a shelter
That helps the homeless right downtown
Perhaps that will make you happy,
But my heart is filled with doubt
I’m sure there’s something in that box
For you to yell at me about.

Someone recently wrote that ‘Love Has No Color’
I disagree:

Love is the deep blue of the ocean
It is the pink of my dog’s tongue
Love is the orchid colors of my daughter’s bedroom
And the blacks my son wears to theater

Love is mocha, pale, ebony, and tan
It is emerald, sapphire, chestnut, and jade
Love is honey and straw, pitch and caramel

Love is cherry blossom walks
It’s painted deserts
It’s shimmering skyscrapers
And the intense greens of triple canopy jungles

Love is the color of your first car
And your girlfriend’s prom dress

Love is stained glass
Bright green Christmas trees
And the Easter dresses
Of the church that you call home

Love is your alma mater’s jerseys
And NOT your rival’s
It’s shimmering fireworks with friends
And the long rays of the sun from a folding chair in the sand

Love is not without color
Love IS colors

Love... is colors

You know, the one who never turns in his work
You know, the one who challenges you at every turn
You know, the one who never seems to listen
You know the one who’s late on Monday and skips most Fridays
You know, the one who aces every test
You know, the one who reminds you…

Of you.