To a Child at Enlightenment

What I recall about that Fourth
isn’t fireworks but fireflies,before.

At dusk, the bushes teemed with light,
neon points in random flight.

I placed one in your tiny hand,.
and your face beamed, I understand. Rhyme On 2016, Loudoun County Public Library

Pioneering Women, Topology Magazine (Feb. 7, 2017)

Bodhisattva Guanyin
(hollow dry lacquer, 16th C. Ming Dynasty at The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore)

Guarding the exit – Jewel In the Lotus.
Mystery Princess draped in gilt silk.
Manicured, tasseled, lounging barefoot.
Pendulous lobes heavy with cares
gleaned from the cries of a suffering world.
Infinite, peaceful, wise beyond words,
Goddess of Mercy, blessed, enlightened.
Mary for Buddhists you’re sometimes called.
Do you also hear Christian prayers?
Salve, Salve Regina Guanyin.
I entrust you with my secret.~ Angle Journal of Poetry in English  (Autumn 2014)

Hot Jesus

Tell me, hot Jesus, when didst Thou appear
on Mama’s bedroom wall?

Thou of the luminous Newman eyes,
divine Depp nose, sweet Gyllenhaal mouth,
Thou whose chiseled features
veiled in flawless flesh
art rugged and rosy as dawn?

How dost Thou keep Thy Fabio locks,
so radiant, swept from Thy brow,
Thy Connery beard so neatly groomed,
Thy chest so smooth? Dost Thou wax?

From whence didst Thou come? 
Church basement thrift shop
or miraculous apparition?
Hast Thou considered an upgrade from
Thy gilt scrollwork, chipped plastic frame?
For Thou art all good and deserving of more.~ Off the Coast (Summer 2012) 

 Moving Day

You moved into your dorm a sticky day.
We schlepped your stuff and sweat with no AC.
I vowed I wouldn’t bawl. I’d be OK.
I, too, was moving on. Now I was free.

My mind a knot of hopes, unbidden fears.
A sign: Hydration ~ Health: Your Body’s Link.
A stupid thought to cap our eighteen years,
my last advice was, “Don’t forget to drink.”

A horde of tourists swarmed Colonial town.
Your Dad bought food. I found a bench outside.
I would have been just fine, but sitting down
I bumped my head, and cried, and cried, and cried.

My mother’s death. Your sister’s crash. Now this.
Of all that I held dear, it’s you I miss.~ life in me like grass on fire: love poems, Maryland Writers' Association (2011)

Murmuration, Helen (Sept. 2015)

Off-Roading on the Tundra, Silver Birch Press (April 2016) 

The Face on the Milk Carton, Ink Stain (April 2016)