an onion

fragments
from layers
of an onion
piled on the counter-top
you with your knife
and your tears.
i focus intently
on the curve of your
spine and how it reacts
as i sputter and whine
in curt response
to sour accusations
like the knife's edge.
the pungent air
has less to do now
with the onion,
our exchanges heavy
on our faces
as we turn to
more urgent affairs,
the smell of our fears
sharp and poignant.

dress up

rummaging through my shirts
at an even pace
my closet wide and tidy
ordered like the stages of the
stratosphere or
a Sunday morning sermon.

they are each there on display
blue and grey and
black and brownish
red or white or striped and clean
all to mask my affections
all to redress the pale flesh
and course hair beneath.

i have sweaters for
cold days like this one,
and playful ties and
stout belts and even
fresh pressed slacks.
they envelop my body like
the pea green afghan
grandmother knitted me
during the Advent
while she was waiting for
the scotch pine to arrive
to dress up her ever reaching arms,
and those Salvation Army ringers
with their constant clank of the asking,
and Grandfather to come home
from his work on the road
to make sugar cookies and even better.

i rummage through my closets
at an even pace
looking for the right styles to wear
choosing again with my eyes shut tight
like a sailor at the
blackjack table or
a Sunday morning prayer.

colored tissue paper

We are secular and lonesome,
Poem.
Our portions plastered
tightly,
adorned with
colored tissue paper
clutching to
this shape of our languid pinata
dangling now
in the fear of celebrations and
unbroken.
All the treasure
wrapped and trapped
inside.

baby faces

you are wild and new
baby faces
ever shifting as
the spring tides
changeable as
a Minnesota sky
what dare you
to think
in your wordless phrases
behind those wandering
eyes?
your face brings
hope as a new day
your faces bring
breath for a song.

you are vivid and soft
baby faces
unchanging as
a river's flow
unmoved as
a standing stone
what dare you
to utter
in your speechless way
outside of the realm of my
perceptions?
your face brings
joy to ease longings
your faces bring
agape for my soul.

(for Ingrid Katarina Joy)