In the evening,
I’m fifty-three.
I worry about my mother.
I just learned what a quark is.
Awesome, that.
I love kids’ word creations,
Like ‘fetch.’ No, not ‘go get.’
I worry about my daughters.
I know Jesus and know I shouldn’t worry.
I admire my students.
Art quilts are heaven to do,
But never quite reach what is in my head.
I doubt there’s much in my head.
Heaven, actually
Is to sit with other women and
Look at the Bible. Oh, wow.
Lady Gaga’s ‘Shallow’
Makes my heart ache
Or my stomach. Or both.
‘Tell me something, boy.’
And I am, like everyone else,
Undone.
I’ve been married thirty years, and men
Are still a Cipher,
Charming and operating under
Different code.
My favorite man listens to music really
Really loud,
And gazes at his vintage
Sound system and
Likes it.
My son grins when I ask, and says,
It’s all good, Mom.
But, I have to figure that it’s
Harder than ‘all good.’ I also
Know to respect the man.
I’ve known that since I had him.
Had him. As in, lying on a table
And shrieking, OH.
He doesn’t want to know about that.
That’s weird.
Tell me about it, boy.
~
Morning comes.
And I open the Book.
53 fades into eternity,
Eternity assumes the form of
A Man. Charming and operating
Under different code.
And He gazes on me and
Likes me.
He sings me a Psalm
About warfare, and how
When all is said and done,
What He says is what’s done,
And so, to gather His words
To myself as the gold of my life.
I love The Man.
~
Psalm 119: 162