From Ireland

When I received the post card from you I was sitting at my desk flipping a pen between my fingers.  It was a foggy morning.  Between sips of bitter coffee, I watched a blue jay perched on an empty branch, his head darting in different directions. My computer screen was a white and gray blank on my grandfather’s oak desk.  I brushed my hair out of my eyes and pulled my robe tighter around my body.  A squeak of a hinge and the blue jay was gone.

At my front door, an array of white envelopes scattered the hardwood floor.  The one with your writing I picked up first:  “Real Ireland.”  I leaned against the door, smiling. A blast of warm air from a vent rushed over my feet.  I flipped the card over:  A lone farmer hoeing, and his dog, each looking in different directions.  Behind them a countryside of green and brown edges held by mountain slopes.  I glanced to a photo of us on the brick fireplace, embracing years ago.  You had just returned from India. You wore a bright pink sari and your face was decorated in bindis. I was still wearing my work uniform; a pressed blue suit and starched blouse. I wore little makeup.  Even then, I was always the worker; you had your sights set out into the world.

Returning to my desk I removed my robe and begin to type: the screen filled with many black letters. I sat for hours, while sunlight spilled across my fingers. Later, I stood and stretched, and moved slowly to the kitchen. Standing at the sink, I nibbled on cheese and bread.  I glanced out a small window-

In the sun

Each looking in different directions,

Two jays perched on a branch.

The Rain Is Jumping On The Water



“Mama the rain is jumping on the water!”

She looked at me with bright eyes.

Millions of drops filled the window


Walking outside, the fur on my dogs’ faces was completely pushed away

Revealing their skinny skulls and tiny black eyes.

The bay was swollen with whitecaps


“Mommy I want a hug! Put your homework down.”

She kicked my laptop.

She wrapped her little arms around me; her cheeks warm against mine.


The white truck in front of me drove at a snail’s pace down the one lane road

My heart raced.

Millions of drops filled the windshield


“I not a baby anymore, I’m a big girl!”

She rubbed my face with her hand

My eyes reddened; a smile.


3am; I stare into darkness and hints of moonlight

Heart racing

Millions of drops tap at the roof



5pm; my eyelids heavy

The windows showing only what’s inside-

Stillness and heavy heart


The squeak of her small feet against hardwood floor-

She nibbles apples and bananas in a purple princess nightgown

And pink hippo pants, now to her mid calf


“He’s a good boy, pet him Mama!”

Her blue eyes

Dance: the little flames of a small fire


“You all done?”

The dogs glance at me in question

Skinny skulls hidden in black and tan strands.