dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: memories

She jumped on the pendulum
Too soon-
Both feet barely curling around
The golden face of
Time’s unstamped coin,

Each finger wrapped itself
Around the gleaming cord
Instinctively,
Tire swing blisters
Rested on its bright braid.

But her summertime smile
Was lost in the back and forth breeze,
Porch swing memories
Splintered
As she swung.


She sat like the blurred words
Of a popsicle stick joke as
The cold blue
Of the waiting room
Dripped from her thoughts
To her hands
Until the seconds stuck to each other
Like the pages of her magazine,
Shining sideways
In a puddle on the floor.
And the hard hairbrush carpet,
Already grown into her soles,
Pricked both feet mercilessly
While she
Remembered summer
Disposably sweet.


memories face the clouds
still velcroed,
unsalted,
stubborn
sunflower seeds
straining higher.
millions of dark eyes
waiting for the hour
their namesake
will appear,
unaware their petals’ flames
are the beauty to be matched.


We drew the sky in sidewalk chalk

Then walked barefoot

Until the sun rubbed into our toes,

Soft and cool.

You said

Share your secrets on the concrete

And the rain will wash

Each pastel curve

Into the cracks.


I kept the curly ribbon
He cut from the clouds,
That’s what sits inside, you know,
It shows a little
When the sun sets
Or lightning’s silver scissors
Chase it across the sky.

It’s tied behind my eyes now,
Shining through the blue
When good memories
Rustle the color bundle
Like a fall breeze
Giving goose bumps,
An everyday celebration.


When fireflies waved
The runway clear
For high explosions
I drew my name
In the dark, each letter
Sparkling, popping near
My fingers.
 
I sat in the cool grass
Watching confetti lightning
With no thoughts of fighting
The tiny artists
Of their own fiery design-
Chigger bites tattooed
The bursting lights
In bright red bites
For my legs to remember.


Is a memory

A pile of quilt squares,

Bright pieces of earth and sky

In flesh-like cloth,

Soft and familiar?

Or is it

The blanket’s stains and loose threads,

Pockmarked pieces

Fingered and worn,

Torn in places?


Struggle and rest,
Reach and retreat,
Each heartbeat creaks
Like a weathered
Rocking chair.

When he first felt
Earth’s cold wind
On his baby skin
A slow moan rumbled
Through his bones.

His first steps
On hard wood,
Wobbling he stood
Heel to sole,
Sole to heel.

He dug into the earth
One friend, one hole
Dead doggie soul
Dirt and tears,
Shovel down.

First day lived
As a working man
Nonstop on a business plan
Hours nine to five
Long and longer.

Bought the ring
Then baby shoes
Two pinks, two blues
Twice the joy,
Then doubled grief.

From the front porch
He stoops and stares
Splintered cares
Rock back
And forth.