Mom makes the bed

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

Case Closed

I’ve closed the case
on my folks’ musical hopes
sour notes linger

paperback novel
once more he tells her
her relatives are strange

ship bringing food
reaches the besieged town
only children at the dock

want to lick the spoon?
mother always offered
sweet taste of childhood

sudden thunder booms
in father’s angry words
lightning in his hands

the gardener’s child
in a faded rose dress
the neighbour girl outgrew

gift for his mother
he looks in each cupboard— where
shall I hide it, Mom?

if my little girl
were here I would find delight
in all this wet snow

(Borrowing & revamping a strain of thought from Issa)

baby’s tiny hands
her sweet round face, her alarms
our little clock