Change, Choices

Keep Moving

Anxiety is love’s greatest killer… It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him but you know he will strangle you with his panic.

Anais Nin, February 1947

It is when the air tilts. The ground splits open. You tip over the edge of the only map you have and don’t know if you will land, let alone where. It happens thousands of times in a life. If you are willing, you could find yourself there as many times in a day.

To keep moving when no way is clear and every choice uncertain is at the heart of mortality and motherhood, of art and work and love.


Family, Poetry


The brooch must contain traces
of her. In the solder bearing glass
to wing, a bit of cell, a fleck of skin
resides, this amulet is her
as much as mine.
The butterfly falls open
in my palm.

By caress and incantation
the jinn unfurls from brass
antenna and twines around
my naked face
planting one kiss then another
dozen the way she did, her powdered cheeks
fluttering, alight
until I squirmed from the onslaught
of an affection,
so much like thirst.

“I know you love me,” she would say
on her way into the hall, closing
the door on fleeting dusk, my visit
in that blink of summer never long enough to probe
under folded silk slips and kidskin gloves
to unearth each rose bead, each hidden leaf
of virgin jade. I loved her in return,
I suppose (as if a child has any notion
of the magnitude of such a claim). She told me I did
so this is how I know

that when the jeweled pin
pierces the wrap at my breast, she is
what thrums there
drawing nectar from the pistil
still, but with all the latent force
of flight.


Happy 100 Days: 78 (Coup D’Etat)

Bug: Who’s going to die first, you or me?

Mommy: Probably me, but not for a long time. I plan to live until I’m really, really old.

Bug: How old?

Mommy: Until after you have kids, and your kids have kids, and you’re a grandpa and I’m a great grandma. Then maybe I’ll live a little longer just for kicks.

Bug: My kids will be your grandkids?

Mommy: Yes, if you decide to have kids. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. Do you think you’d like to be a daddy someday?

Bug: If I’m not a daddy, will you have grandkids at all?

Mommy: Nope. You’re my only child. You’re my one shot.

Bug: So, I get to decide if you become a grandma?

Mommy: Looks that way. It’s all up to you.

Bug: So that means I have all the power.