4/3/09 nino- quiet

possibilities now,
winding around dogwooded rootings,
then,
up the sides of fences,
up the sides of stucco,
then,
embracing the almost-retired dreams that our mothers share.

a while back she may have softened an unexpected carrying
with day-time sun-sleeps,
and full-fat buttered blessings.
she may have smiled beautifully,
glowing,
and breezed.
before then
being sentenced to a life of full-time care,
one meant for providing somethings when there were none,
may have darkened the darkest of corners,
inspiring stolen minutes of unabashed recluse.
resolve,
a thing for strangers.

others, nino, woke with dread,
then put on a more right face,
then put on a more sure stance,
then put on a more sensitive tone
than the one that came growling with the sun-rise.
and,
with every evening's settle,
i remember her.
sharp as a whistle
pleased as a pistol
drunk as you ever saw one.

it is easy to remember for them.
my mind colors in the memory shapes,
fills them in
so that we may still have stories.

it is becoming easier still,
to color you now.
as you might be,
as you will grow,
when our dreams become allowing,
and the possibility of you blossoms,
flowering more brilliantly than a magnolia,
on a corner,
on the street where the thought of you was born.


journal