sandcastles

i was made not lasting.
show no photos,
no proof i was here
but proud work
satisfied with
ephemeral beauty.

a day where all the children
like to play bivouac
on the front lawn, full of
thoughts for guests,
for drinking,
for no one was home.
but they were already opened,
used and refilled many times.
little clusters of quartz crystals…

no, those aren’t my mother’s,
those are my own pictures on the walls
to remind me where i came from.
they tell my story,
the story of my family,
those children are my own children.
show me the rounds.
(how many…?)
it’s hard to remember school-time,
needed some extra help,
we were inhospitable at times.
(or was it?)

“how is your husband?”

oh, he is here.
he is well.
better.
walking.
what am i doing?
i have such a hard time remembering…

the man on the phone,
what was his name!
i called him something else,
i said, “maybe it starts with a g.”
did he say i was right,
or just getting close?
he said, “don’t you remember
you’re married and you have two boys?”
he was calling to tell me,
and i was still distracted, daydreaming.
i was in the city, enjoying the scenery,
i didn’t know where i was.
i didn’t own life.

yes, my job is that i am sensitive
to the energies that fill
the buildings and offices.
i work in what is my answer.
you didn’t say leave the money.
stay home, god.
he doesn’t care what other people think
of me when i am not love and loving.
i am not living.
i dreamed i bloomed.
i am not even planted.

gotten off course, angel.
need realignment.
healing and prayer is the core.
my body? well, the yoga and whole foods
keep coming back every time
i need to get this right.
shape up kind to my skin,
no-fillers-clean.
my house won’t worry
so much about decorating.

fall into place.
(sink back into the sand,
sit at the bottom of the ocean and see.)

focus your energies.

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