Reflections on the Artist at Previous Times

I. Beginner
I could not keep it down
the milk pools
it is words and language
I hunger for
'Give me words!
Ok. Or surgery.'
Scars
can be poetry, too.

II. Sandbox
It was easier
to make up stories
and manipulate
toys in the yard
than to create my own life
in Missouri
with my family.
One scar was enough - for now.

III. Silent
Fourteen in
Guess jeans and
petrified but proud
of that
little upside-down
traingle with the
question mark
(Mimi bought them, not me.)
I stand
mirror facing
singing a song I will sing
for fourteen more
years. Silent
All These
Years. Rewind.

IV. Love-sick teenage weirdo
would rather be on the phone
with someone else's boyfriend
solving his problems
in the middle of the night
than figuring myself out,
alone.

V. Utah
Library hill
the books, yes,
but the rolling.
Tried to run -
lungs filled with fire.
My poetry - written with
magnets. My muses,
the Holy Spirit, Mountain Air,
and Madonna.

VI. The Student
"That is not what T.S. Eliot
meant," well...shit.
"And I just don't think
you understand the
Wife of Bath." Tell me,
why did I pick this major?
And let me look at
your paper. I think I spot
a run-on.

VII. Feasting on words with God
One way journals
to the Divine.
Presumptuous,
Precocious;
Prayer.

VIII. Saucony Cinco
We met because we shared
a similar lack of fashion sense
it seemed we shared little else
'til our third walk
around the block.
Damn. I've fallen.

IX. Fast Forward in a Four Door
Dating becomes baptism
becomes birthdays - some surprise -
becomes engagement
becomes marriage becomes
theological inquiry.
Am I a pastor,
are you?

X. Unpack
The more moves
the less remains
from the original wedding gift
treasure trove. Did we really
release the waffle iron?
Oh well. The waffle iron
in my heart
still heats up for you. And yet,
there is something more mystical
left to unpack.

XI. Our Lives as Benjamin Button
You are philosopher
I am church basement lady.
You, set free to the midnight.
Me, cloaked in wheat-colored
flatterless robe; 'Wear it'
they say. I wish I'd have
loosened up but I don't
regret the journey. What
is life without apology?

XII. The individual emerges
Thinner. looser. ecclectic. frenetic. ecumenical and
sometimes...calm.
Not afraid to sleep on a futon or in an RV
between the house of the deceased
and the Mormon church.
Finding self
and spittin' rhymes
or half-rhymes
on any notebook
that'll take it.

XIII. This morning
I walked the dog
and knew my beauty
within my vanity.
I love you tangled hair
and unsure ankle.
And I will risk
being late to work
so I can
finish
this
poem.