I fell into a sea of brothers, often swimming
For dear life, secretly wishing for sisters, while
My friends with families overflowing in the feminine
Sharing clothes, make-up, bedroom discussions
Extolling the necessity of good hygiene, the hows
Mixed intimately with the whys leading to success
With boys, whose secrets I knew but didn’t understand
Girls counseled in giggles by their own safely through
Puberty’s passage while me with a borrowed set of books
My mother placed solemnly on the kitchen table for me
To read with their anatomically correct animations
Curiously provided me with the facts minus the fun
No depth for understanding intricacies and the power
In the possibility of love or preparation when advantages
Were given and taken and the shocking discovery made
That boys don’t love you after if they didn’t love you before
And not a book written gives comfort then; I have looked
Category Archives: Parenting
A Wish
If I wish really hard for something
Squinched up eyes shut in a whisper
Over and over sandwhiched between
Please oh please, God, pretty please
Wishing til’ it hurts. Will it work this time?
Mama says that life ain’t fair and no
Amount of silent hoping is gonna change
That wishes are just a bunch of tossed up
Dreams to God and he can only say yes
To so many. But if my heart’s in the right place?
Maybe last time I forgot to close my eyes, and
I didn’t capitalize God’s name in my thoughts
Or God is a lady and she’s mad I’ve been
Calling her father, But if God’s as nice as the priest
Says on Sundays, should all that matter?
I think that if God is a girl, like me, she’d
Understand better that my mama needs
My daddy to come back home now
That mamas need smiles on their faces
And if my wish gets a yes, I promise
I won’t ever ask for another thing, ever
I Had a Bad Dream
What is a dream anyway?
A tale, a wish, a fear
Thoughts to fall asleep with
Something to wake up from
Conscious hopes carried
Into a supposed safe slumber
Our own cinematic scenes of
Scary, exciting, foreboding
Dreams becoming nightmares
Fleeing a wakeful unknown
Until sliding to a precipice’s edge
Some familiar cliff, alone
Over and over, the sharp echoes
Warning, granite’s dangerous contour
Nudging from fitful slumber to an
Open-eyed sweating confusion
Fearful stillness, blanketed
In darkness, only a fluorescent
Green glow signaling the safety
Of the soon to be dawn, details
Fading thankfully with the day
Who Did That?
There is the hope for closeness
When they are adults and I am gone
Not standing by, suggesting or
Forcing it by demanding truces
Calling for ceasefires continually
The many verbal assaults that
Still sometimes end in giddy
Laughter over one or the other
Expelling a gaseous exchange
With the universe merrily shocking
Each others olfactory sensibility
And always the question of
Who did that? All three know
Without anyone admitting it
I smile knowing it is in these
Silly boy exchanges that their
Love is in the craziest of details
I Wait to Talk to a Teacher
We are both waiting, quietly observing
She calm, her coat zipped right to the top
Her pink suede boots with satin ribbon laces, dangle
Where is the aunt, her mom, maybe dad, today
The secretaries try the numbers, no answers
One mentions the books she can look at
Does she want to unzip her coat, another asks
You look uncomfortable with it up so high
No, it isn’t hurting me, see? Her chin held high
While she waits sweetly, her blonde curly hair
A wild frame for her little angelic face that stares
Straight ahead, what thoughts behind still eyes
Picking up a book she only holds its sleeve out
Where are the pictures she wonders aloud, not
To me specifically, just for anyone, she is now
Concerned about where they might be,
The people who love her, I touch the book
Explaining it is kept nice by that outside cover
She leafs uncomfortably through its pages
The phone rings, She’s right here, is the response
The secretary indicates, dad is out in the parking lot
Come on, says the secretary, I will walk you out to him
She doesn’t move. She stares ahead at the window
I see him now, too, a young dad smiling, amiable
They say, is that your daddy,
When he comes through the office door She turns her head, hesitates
Taking a big long look, she nods jumping off the chair
She is the sweetest little thing, I tell him
The secretary says, yes, I could take her home with me
Our reminders to her of her specialness, and to dad
Please don’t forget her someday when there is no
Warm office, lovely secretaries, and a mom who waits
Breakfast with Buse 