No pido disculpas Por escribir Lo que siento Lo que llevo adentro Lo que vivo
A noisy restaurant Listen Focus Beyond the dishes The music
My poems are short Written at night In my head I wake at dawn Shake my memory
Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
Look in the mirror What is it you see? Hazel eyes above your Favorite black dress Looks clean and fresh
The pine trees Reach up On both sides Of the road Telling me
It’s not pretty When I cry People get almost as embarrassed as I
Steamroller Of life Passed by Feeling down Squished
The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying
¿Te duele Cuándo piques tu dedo? No Lo hago por pura diversión Lo que duele
Beside you I am At peace Our love A connection
When I think of my mom I think of malt o meal muffins When I think of my dad Memories of a child Chasing us around the circle
She is no longer Part of my life I’ve moved on My life is full With friends
If food is poetry The flavors The smells Singing in harmony Is poetry food?