3 Poems for a Dying Democracy

THREE POEMS BELOW. The first two were published this past Spring in the 2024 edition of Poetry Pacific. The last one is new, a little haiku. I’m just now noticing that two of them concern my late mother. Ah, Mom. Just like with our country, I’m glad I was there for your best years. Requiescat In Pace

There’s a Certain Way

There’s a certain way of the first morning sunlight. It surprises you.

It’s not the sudden, sharp angle
or the way it glistens on the clinquant leaves.
It’s that you didn’t see it coming — like a snail at your feet.
It shimmers and sparkles, refocuses the senses. It is just
there.

As though it was always there and you were the one who just arrived.

Springtime is for Poetry and Self-Love, You Idiot (Part One)

“Don’t hug me,
it makes me feel fat,”
Mom said to me
when I was a skinny, little kid.

She was fat. I had to be, too —
if that was what it was took
to be able to hold her
— in my mind.

Hey, Ma…in Seattle

Hey Ma, I’ve got a
fake Hixson on the mantle.
— Ma…I’ve got a mantle