Inner space

If we aren't
made of stardust
then why do
we fly through
space and see
the swirl of
galaxies form each
time we squeeze
our eyes shut

--

Creative Bloomings prompt 169: a sense of belonging

The fall

The smell of burning leaves
outside couldn't overpower
the smell of burning croissants

wafting from the downstairs kitchen,
the chaos of
smoke detectors beeping incessantly loud,

while Mom, who never cooks,
grabbed a towel
from the counter to fan

the smoke from the charred
pastries out through
an open window to intermingle

with the smoldering pile of
red and yellow
leaves in our long driveway

behind Dad's old yellow VW
bug and beside
the spot my sister and

I liked to play hopscotch,
retreating to the
outdoors while my brother butchered

Mozart practicing his oboe every
night, our go-to
punching bag for sibling barbs

The beeping stopped but the
smell of smoke
lingered and I wondered if

the rest of dinner was
lost. If we'd
still be eating roast beef

or if Dad would call
Chen's for wonton
soup and takeout for five



--

Creative Bloomings prompt 168 - mix-and-match muse

Unpacking the trunk

You look at me and
see a gray body bloated with memories,
wrinkled by the worries of
a life too well remembered

You see no beauty in
the bulk of my weight, hips that
have carried our children into
this dusty, drought-weary world

little ones who gaze at
their mother through elephant-thick eyelashes and
see only the fierce matronly
love beneath the rough hide

--

Creative Bloomings prompt #166 - animal house

Always tomorrow

"I love you in the future," he
says, believing his own words as
he kisses me on the forehead
like a real lover would


--

Creative Bloomings Micro Poetry - Another Short Japanese Form?

Pismo Beach

Inspired by summer family vacations spent in the sand dunes of Pismo Beach and Big Sur


We spent afternoons
rolling down mountains of sand
laughing as we

tumbled like logs,
all limbs and heavy trunks,
crashing our way

through the salty
air and the slow, thick
stick of vacation

flying through timelessness
ever-closer toward the cold embrace
of the Pacific

and the long
wet ride home


--
July PAD Day 1 - camping memory

Beauty crowds me ...

a lovely stranger pressing his
skin against mine
in the crowded
subway car at rush hour,
nudging me ever so slightly
during the curves
of my commute
as if to remind me
not to forget
he is there

--

Creative Bloomings prompt 160: Emily Dickinson