Mom makes the bed

when mom makes the bed
she wallops all the monsters
super powers

Shoes

we returned the shoes
she bought to dance in after
her last treatment

Image: TerriC–Pixabay

one small cloud
hooked on the new moon’s horn
why won’t it let go?

child on a swing
twirling herself dizzy
fallen leaves skitter by

time like a shadow
touches me in its passage
leaving so little

sculptors have been
in the pantry the cheese
all Swiss now

she told him so often
take it easy on that curve
the wail of sirens