Pumpkin Sized

The first three cuts are equal,
each an inch in length,
forming a small triangle
against an expanse of orange.
She asks for help then,
adding a circle
on top of her triangle.
I carve while she announces
that we are carving her,
then she hops down
on a quest for paint.
Brown first, for hair
followed by red and purple,
for a bow.
A bigger triangle is next
as her cousin is two years her senior.
(Green and yellow bow)
Then a square because this cousin
is a boy.
(more paint)
The geometric parade
continues
as Grandma,
then me,
then Mom are added.
(We all have blue shoes)
Aunts and uncles
complete the circle
until one touches hands
with her.
She sits back
then tells us
the title
is "Family Love Circle."
And
this moment
swells
to fill
All of the available space
and time
before collapsing back.
Pumpkin sized.

They are All Fish Tales, Really

"They are all fish tales, really"

-- When my mother’s memory began to fade, she asked me,
What will become of me when I don’t have a story?
Not knowing what else to say, I told her, Lie.
                                       --Jane Shlensky


The river that is memory
twists and turns as it winds its way,
picking up silt
and carrying it along
until another force
slows the current
and the silt falls,
sometimes forming a loess,
blocking the flow,
forming pools
on which we fish
for that which was easily
within reach, only yesterday.
So drop in a line
and if it comes up empty
tell the world you caught
a clownfish
and
go on
about the color
and the feel of it
as it wriggled in your hands,
just before
it splashed
away.

It's Hard to Keep Them All Happy

Facing the daunting challenge
of coloring the crayons,
I grab fistfuls of maple leaves,
separating the Burnt Orange
from the Burnt Sienna
I find just enough Outrageous Orange
to intensify the Neon Carrot.
Fastidious Fuchsia
refuses my offer of Chestnut
which she needs for her to become Copper,
so I offer it to Magenta
who accepts it along with my offer of Mahogany
but he also demands the  Goldenrod
I'm saving for Inchworm.
Disheartened,
I grab Cadet Blue
from the morning drizzle
and head out for coffee.



* Thanks to Wikipedia for this amazing list of colors.

already fallen

And again
I found myself hanging stars
in the sky,
asking passers-by
for help
with the ropes and pulleys
(it's all ropes and pulleys).
Hastily running from
rope to rope,
trying to sustain the illusion,
that these stars
are worth reaching for,
avoiding
(for the moment)
the dreadful feeling
forming in the pit of my stomach
that
we've already fallen.