Virginia Christmas

Virginia Christmas

It’s midnight Christmas Eve, but we

don’t sleep.  We open cardboard boxes

filled with things – large lights, a golden star and

ornaments, both the round and the peculiar.

The tree leans dangerously to the left, tied

with twine to our grandmother’s bookshelf.  
 

I won’t forget this Virginia Christmas. It's the one
when I dumped silver tinsel on your head.
You sneezed and laughed as strands of Christmas gleam

went up your nose. 

Art Begats Poems

Sister Bowl

For Theresa

After Patricia Powles’ “Blue”

Sister you are shaped

by many loving touches: Father

leading hands, mother caring

hands, and sister teasing

tickle-fingers,

teacher, mentor guiding

hands, the nail-marked hands

of Christ.

My Sister Bowl,

an unassuming blue dappled

with silver, sparkling flecks –

beautiful when seen

up close.

We have poured love and wisdom

into your hold, that you may

pour the same into others.

Poem for Good Friday

Good-Looking Friday

For Victoria

My sister twirls

Into the kitchen, a flurry of pink:

Hair ribbons hanging loose,
Spring blouse, rose skirt billowing.
Her feet slide across the wood floor
In magenta stockings.

One look from my mother
And she’s marching up the stairs,
Head high and skirt held daintily in one hand.
She returns with a black skirt, a frown,
And the magenta stockings
Still hugging her feet. 

One does not wear pink
Upon the death of the King.