March 1: A

Photo: Antarctica, January 2012

Antarctic Abstract

Lots of white, but many shades

in solid bold strokes and lacy tablecloth 

dabs. And blues. The magic cerulean of 

icebergs compressed for eons, 

shimmering underwater shadows of 

crags plunging under tabular shelves.

Deep inky blue ocean crevasses,

gray-purple of hanging clouds, brilliant 

periwinkle of endless summer sky.

Black-brown rocks like spiking teeth, 

or smoothed round on rippling shores, 

or tan streaked pink and white by

penguin generations of millions. 

Orange glow of a sunset, clouds burning

behind a frozen ridge waiting for, 

darkness that never really comes.

Then the black and white, blurred

to show staccato motions of 

waddling penguin, among slate gray

puffs for chicks bent like old men

waiting to be fed.

A red slash among the penguins for

those who come wearing wellingtons, 

and fire engine parkas to stare through

cameras on this alien shore, trying

to capture the colors to take home 

and spread on canvases that can

never really capture the place.




Alzheimer's

My friend's husband
my husband's mother
another friend
another friend's mother
a father, a brother, sister.
It seems to lurk in so
many corners, batters
at the gates. I try not
to see the losses.
I hope the people
I knew are not really
behind this fading focus
despairing in agony,
unable to find words,
connections. My denial, yes.
I know they are there
in this unasked for place
and I know they know
at some level.
I pray happiness is
still possible and that
I will not have to know
for sure. Ever.