dust

My cameo role in my daughter’s poem shows me mostly asleep. It’s a joy to be awakened by the poem itself! If anyone needs to know, she really did return to that place to live, nine years later as an Americorps volunteer who helped valley residents grow vegetables in the fertile dust.

City Sister & Mountain Mama

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nevermind the dust
blowing in every direction

if you can take a breath
even if only for one moment,
you are alive
*
i graduated from eighth grade
my first kiss, a dare i chose
in a gazebo
on an early summer night

quickly, i touched my lips to his
in the middle of a circle of
eyes watching
*
the next morning
on the flight to Denver
my walkman in my lap
forehead pressed to the window

all i remember from the night before
is the rhythm of my knees shaking
in anticipation

curious
*
the snow-capped mountains
are grand in their majesty,
i learned to say

always in the distance
and my mother can’t stop sighing
in the face of their majesty

but their jagged, rocky edges
viewed from the highway
bring me no peace of mind
*
we drive south,
my mom, my sister, and i

there…

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