You Remind Me

You are droplets of sunlight in the midst of a rainstorm, reminding me the Constant breathes for me when I am drowning.   You are the Roar when my words won’t come— speaking for me, reminding me I am never voiceless.   In this world disparaged by the Blight of divisiveness, you are true Eden,

For My Truest of Loves

The day was grey-blue, echo of your eyes; sky filled up with promise of rain, and we waited for beloved petrichor. Lemon yellow and speckled black, a noble friend clasped your flaxen strands and flexed its wings. What dreams did she bring, my darling? Do you know how often I dream of the daylight that

Fibromyalgia: You Don’t Own Me

Despite the pain I live with every day, I often do forget that I’m not twenty anymore–until I hand down to my girl some vintage band tees too small for me now. Goodbye Fleetwood Mac tank top, and Rolling Stones long sleeved t-shirt. See you around, Abbey Road with the small hole in the armpit.

Some Words for My Girl

If you’d let me, I’d count your freckles—each kiss print from the sun—I’d connect the dots of constellations tattooed on your alabaster skin—a magic map to be deciphered by the moonlight. You are the cosmos in human form—all-encompassing and beautiful beyond description. When I’m with you, I am energized; positivity radiates from your being, and

You’re a Bitch, and I love You

All my life, mother, I’ve loved you above myself even when you’ve loved yourself more than you’ve loved me in return. I now know you’ve hated yourself for making me abandon myself in hopes you’d love me in return. You’re sick, my mother; you’re aware. But I am strong, and you are proud. You don’t

If Memories Were Fireflies

Girl-child, sun freckled, and blonde you grew smaller year by year my lap is too big for you Girl-child is a woman engaged now and memories are not fireflies housed in jars on summer nights or else I’d have a collection of endless summers   *photo: Mother Nature Network

Year 20

Year 20 I look to my Sun– alabaster skin blue-grey eyes; still seas but never silent. Year 20 She’s aged 100, immortally kind, ageless wise; true mouth but never savage. Year 20 Nicole, I may have given birth to you, but you have given me life.  

She Spins Me In Light

  She is art, this girl of mine is central, the golden sun hung high in my universe all knowing of naught but love *Photo: Laurie Lanczynski

A Constant State of Efflorescence

Unfurl your petals– stretch out and reach for the sun, my beautiful girl, the brightest in my garden. You’ve saved more than my own life.

Nightswimming: REM

My daughter is my light, my breath, my heart that pumps the life through my body. I love her endlessly, and so intensely I happily weep whenever I hear this song. It is our song. When my girl was an infant, I played soft music for her at night. As infants do, she would wake up in