Wild Flowers♥

Welcome to my Blog. You will find poetry here. All poems are my original work unless otherwise indicated. Enjoy! Why Wild Flowers? Because... "When a wild flower grows it picks its space." -- Sheryl Crow, and: "Nobody knows a wild flower still grows by the side of the road." -- Bon Jovi

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Keeping Vigil

for Eric

A hunter, prowling on a summer's eve
tries to subtract a cottontail from the woods.
A boy finds it in the tall grasses
thrashing about, blood in its ears,
he wants to save the rabbit.
He places it on a yellow towel
inside a cardboard box, feeds it fresh lettuce
and thin carrot roots from the garden.
He thinks on a name, Peter perhaps or Dyno.
The boy watches as its bleeding slows
the rabbit darts randomly around
in the box claws scratching,
scratching. He sees the rabbit list left,
then right, and fall onto it's side.
As its breathing stills he pets the soft
brown fur, wills it to live. In the morning
the rabbit is rigorous. The boy still sees
the soft rise and fall of its sides,
in and out, in and out. A tear stains
his dirt-smudged cheek.

I wrote this one four years ago when my son Eric was not yet a teenager. We blamed this bunny's death on our cat Sabrina, but it turns out several years later my daughter Jackie fessed up to shooting it with a b-b gun. Although our cat Sabrina is the best rabbit hunter around, I think she caught 9 0r 10 this year, this was not one of hers. There is still a wooden cross by the side of our road that says Dyno.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


(after Kim Addonizio)

I know my daughter is going
she sits across from me
in the driver's seat, reaches
over to the radio buttons
always seeking, never listens
to an entire song. I know
how she used to bring
her baby blanket everywhere,
how she ate the fuzz from it,
now a scrap of security
tucked away in a drawer.
She sprays perfume that smells
like cotton candy, carries
a cell phone in her pocket,
and drinks bottled frappucino.
She defines cheerleader,
and confident has her first
I love you boyfriend.
She knows how to use
all the oxygen in the room.
I call her princess,
the only thing I say
she embraces these days.
She pretends not to know
that I know she is going.
She sits across from me
with her learner's permit
and birth control.