Monthly Archives: February 2020

Sitting in the beauty parlor In a complex fancy chair Amid a disparate clientele My hair wizard talks to me As she wields scissors. My little girl is two years old She says Working with a delicate touch. My son … Continue reading →

My mother was born on Leap Year Day In 1912 I miss her Not all the time, only once in a while Mostly I am glad she is dead Terrible of me to say, I know But she wasn’t very … Continue reading →

I was thinking about people I knew When I was young And how beautiful they were. Me too. I still see some of them Occasionally, like My first husband, once blond and wistful Poetically aristocratic Now stooped and sick With … Continue reading →

Peter and I ran away together Rented a bare room in Hell’s Kitchen Listened to bebop in doorways on 47th street. He wrote poetry about me I drew portraits of him. We had no money because our families were angry … Continue reading →

It is only February And I am sick of winter Everything is black and white And gray Maybe a little beige. I dimly remember color Green I think It was on a flower I saw once Or maybe just dreamed.

Today I am picking up my new car It is big and steel gray and shiny Quiet Powerful It only costs a million dollars Not really but it’s more expensive than my first house and Just a bit smaller. I … Continue reading →

You know what’s funny? Old ladies with tattoos I know they exist Because I see them in the locker room After old lady swimming class. And you know they must have been hot stuff Back in the day Maybe hippies … Continue reading →

When I start writing poems After 75 years I have lots of stories to tell Many of which show me in a less than ideal light I didn’t set out to be unpleasant It just happened that way. And now … Continue reading →

When I decided to become a lawyer After decades of scoffing At bourgeois stuffy boring men In suits with briefcases Like my father I enrolled in law school, conveniently just Down the road. My first class was Legal Writing because … Continue reading →

All widowers are permitted After a respectful period of mourning To fall in love again And be happy. Except for my husband When I die he can choose to Immolate himself in utter despair Or become a monk. It’s good … Continue reading →