Saturday, November 11, 1995

First Attempt at College

This archive is for poems written during my time at college (the first time around) I was majoring in secondary education at the time, concentrating in Physics and Chemistry. I minored in Fine Art. With certain events in our family life, including my mother's diagnosis with cancer, I was not able to stay in school. I flipped burgers and then helped take care of my mother until she passed. It was a decade after that before I was able to return to school.

The Road to Belgium

He calls me wife.

His eyes are the color of the pheasant feather
that I use to mark my place in Leaves of Grass.

His back
is strong and perfect, sculpted…

My paintbrushes retire inadequate
now seeing they cannot produce beauty –envious.

Kind, a bit sad,
more lost than he realizes.

He laid his head in my lap
so tired and familiar.
I studied him and wondered,

Love him for his body or his heart?
Both seem more than deserving.

-incredible hands,
I felt like water bending, reacting—melting at his touch.

I fell asleep with his arm around me…
…I’d like to live that way.

Now, I think of the road to Belgium and dreams that line the path,
like crepes in the morning.

I’d fill out with pasta-fed fat in Italy

and he would call me wife.

(written for S.P.)