Squirrel's Eye View

An acorn--
and an acorn--
and an acorn--
and an acorn and (cheeks bulge)
then--
Is that--?
It is!

BARK!

Away! and Away! and Away! and
Jump! (nails cling) and
Move! and
Scamper! and
Hustle! and
(tail twitch) and
Climb!
and Gotta--
Hurry!
and Gotta get--

BARK!

To the top!

After Great-Aunt Florie's Unveiling Service

A white teacup saucer with small rosebuds
is sitting on the off-white carpeting
and I'm holding the small, matching cup in
my beauty-marked hand.

My undotted hand feels sore in two spots
where my teeth lie when I suck my fingers,
pressing my sign for "I love you"
against my small lips.

Mr. Big Bear and I are enjoying
afternoon tea with Grandma and Mimi,
stirring in plastic sugar cubes with pink
and silver tin spoons.

The women are sitting on my mother's
yellow and rust flower patterned sofa,
I am kneeling on the other side of
the coffee table.

I pour cold water from my tea kettle
very carefully, spilling only drops
on the glass and wiping them away with
my undotted hand.

Mimi asks me to pour the next cup with
my dotted hand instead, and I find
it's easier and I don't spill at all.
She is right-handed.

I look up at her and smile, sticking
my undotted hand's fingers into my
mouth, feeling pain, but sucking anyway,
enjoying comfort.

Haiku 4

BOOM!

and then another bomb:

Senryu 1

The old man
meticulously gardening and trimming:
nose hair.

Haiku 3

baseball stitching
unraveled caught in the broken
window pane

Haiku 2

cherry blossoms

pink cups of nectar

and histamines

Haiku 1

tree leaves gitter

the breeze pushes though

mom's wind chime

Wire Dress-Hanger Blues

Bought a polka-dot dress just for you.
Bought a polka-dot dress in body-cling blue.
My pretty new dress just swings on its hanger
While you go off dancin' out past the bayou.

You don't call when you go out dancin'.
Get no cell service when you're out prancin'.
but I wait all night for that damn small ring
Crying and frettin' over my financin'.

Ain't got no money, but I waste it on you.
I'm poor and sad, eatin' last year's stew.
But you bring daisies and say you missed me
So here I am still, waitin' on you.

For Mimi

I'll be honest with you:

I hate Jello.

It's over sugared liquid candy,
drops of jiggled splatters don't do a thing for my palate.

It's what I imagine plasma would feel like on my tongue--
not liquid, not solid, just oozing masses
of childhood flavors
that taste like kindergarten
and smell like a playdate with the neighbor I don't like
but whose mom is best friends with mine.

The globules melt,
kaleidoscopic colors in my mouth
gather at the base of my throat, teasing
my uvula until I think I may sneeze or cough or
accidentally even swallow some of the gelled fructose
and be forced to know the feeling of thousands of tiny guppies
swimming down to my stomach, their tails and fins flopping
through my larynx.

Then, when I think the worst is over,
I realize I have the film to deal with;
the plastic wrap coating on my teeth
and tongue and cheeks and gums
that I scrape off with a long fingernail
and see the slightly grayed leftovers
of cherry; the same red tone without any shine
and marbelized with what I assume can later be tested
for DNA--should there be a need.

But even so,
for you I'll bite.

Recipe

Last summer, I made a Sharon:
1 part insecurity
2 parts curiosity
1 part fierce wit
shake until well blended
with chilled optimism
and strain over
1 part disaster
1 part organized insanity
and 3 parts dumb loyalty

Best served with grapefruit juice and lace cookies
over a Gin Blossom soundtrack
while wearing red heels.

Poppy

The stone man is not always made of stone
not really--
at first when night sand
still lingers in his joints
capturing his bones
in its nearly cemented seals
he is only crusted over
but not still stone.
As his movements increase
with the height of the sun
the sand deposits wash away
the brittle bones warm to the day.
Then, as the sun settles in,
so does he--
harder, quieter, colder
stiff and weighted
as sleep pours out of his nose.