Muscle Memory

There is a tree still standing in the Redwoods that remembers

There’s a ring sitting in a trunk under old love letters, and a woolen sweater, it remembers

There’s a photograph of your smile shadows cast by the setting sun in an album now covered in paper,

it remembers

And it’s been a while, but I recall that big sweet smile.

And I remember the Mean Green Machine of family celebrating your arrival.

I remember the first time you held my man, little man.

I remember your five tiny fingers on the left, and on the right

I remember that I loved you so much, you were worth every bit of the fight.

I remember your funny little toes, and your perfect little nose.

Today, while you are away this is where my mind goes.

I remember the time you said my name. The first I love you. Kissing away all your pain.

I remember when you were almost two and scared to cross the seams in the sidewalk…

I remember your proud brother teaching you to talk.

You make a perfect square. Together we are family.

Funny little one, how you fascinate me.

Great Experimentations

Time stalls in our presence… it stops to watch what we’ll do next.

When we were children we ran naked through a backyard sprinkler and the old lady who lived there yelled at us and threatened to call the police. We ran like little snipes from her yard and the delicious stolen droplets of water now pooling between our toes.

The winds stop moving at your command, I watch it happening with wonder as you wave your right hand.

You are ten feet tall and bullet proof, you are the epitome of a summer spent in a radio flyer, and treasures collected at the beach. You are sand between my toes, and sex underneath.

I told you once we were running with scissors, and there was never any safety net… I felt the chill in late september and a pain I haven’t forgotten yet.

Time stalls in our presence in a sleepy sort of way… It doesn’t get things done, there is always another little something it needs to say.

Turn back the clock, meet halfway down the block, bring your Bird on a wire, and that rusted old radio flyer.

Pakistani children cool off by walking t



I would not cheapen you with words that are small, or so big they don’t fit you at all.

You are the caffeine in my coffee, my wake up and face the world call out.

You are like the solid and unexpected 300.00 cash bonus I’m going to keep all to myself because Old Navy is having a sale, and I’ve been wanting to change my hair.

And you are the answer to the question I couldn’t ask, I wouldn’t dare.

You make me look at myself and remind me to laugh, and to forgive… I think you may be the only one I know who gets it and really knows how to live.

You’re the chord in that song I can’t stop trying to play.

They tell me you will disappear without apology one day… but to them I simply say

He would not cheapen me with carelessness, or act simple, or unsavory at all.

I am the last snicker doodle in the bag, I am a soft safe space where your hurts heal.

I’m the hot bath at the end of a long day, I’m the keeper of the lost word you forgot to say.

I’m the fingers on that right hand, right now… reaching out to feel.

It is every day, and in every way my  heart you steal.



High Stakes Claims

I watched the snow fall, I watched his tears fall. We didn’t speak, but the cold and crisp cold mourning said it all.

Love doesn’t live here. He could not watch her go.

I heard the crunch of cold under his boot,  I held my breath my heart calling .. “o please, turn one last time, give me one last look”

Waiting for his goodbye is like stopping, and stalling. On the freeway.

I’m waiting for the storms to pass and the carton of milk to expire.

Staking this heart on a pyre.

More than just a comfort

It’s saturday morning… the sun is warming the window panes, and we are in a place so near to heaven… a place of perfect peace, and happiness. Your feet find mine, and in comes a small boy with sleep still across his face… trailing behind him is a blanket made before he was born- in anticipation of his arrival. And he is giving me his sweetest smile..

In one simple scoop you grabbed him, tickling him while his small legs swung over to me… and he is there and our feet still touched… and he is laughing- and we are kissing his toes, his noes… and for what could have been forever you looked at me and my heart was so filled with the love we made… out of almost nothing, here was that moment made perfect.

We never had another Saturday morning with the sun spilling in, and our son sharing that space between us in the home we made together. Never again were you my home, or his.

I may never get that feeling back… but it still so nice to know I ever had it. So for that, for the perfect note struck, for the little boy who still sleeps with that blanket his grandma made for him before he was ever born… and for the chance to find someone who is capable of so much more than just a moment… I give you my thanks.


And when you said time is all it takes to heal I would look out at the dwindling daylight wondering aloud… is time the trick?

Tricky time… I wait for you, I sometimes chase you… I try to hold you in my hands- and try to save you.

I will set you free… and in the final darkest hour on my clock I hope you will still release me.

I thought I’d make friends with time, thought that we were blind- but fine because don’t THEY say, To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven?

When is it our time, my time, your time and their time? Can we have it all at the same time?

I say Yes.. just a small three letter word for beautiful possibility, for all that is likely and well worn, well loved… and sometimes at least for me, a bit forlorn.

So I finally get the joke- time moves backwards through the things we want, feels we like can’t move from the horror of a painful spot, and leaves us too quickly in our prime…

Tricky indeed, my old friend Time. 

The Essential… (provincial) and somewhat pycho babble of Anne

I would catch a plane and fly to wherever the sun is setting right now… somewhere warm, where the earth is alive with color and the scent of promise can fill my lungs. And the spray of a new perfume can cover my cold, white skin.

Because anything has to be better than the places Im dwelling in.  I have the rank strangers’ sweat sticking to my brow- and a feeling of a loss that isn’t even mine, anyhow.

I would let the slow flicker of a low flame illuminate a path in front of me… and let my nimble feet take me far away…

Because I’m sick of the same scene, and all the nothing in between.

I would hitch a ride to a place with lots of open space… fields of cool blue grasses, and tall iced drinks that are famed for kicking even the most seasoned drunks asses.

Because when one drink just wont do surely there is enough for me to have two.

Wayward Traveller

We used to do this thing with our hands… a sorta kinda dance in darkness… where our fingers would trace, interlope and lace….

We used to kind of laugh even at the sound of our own silly voices… we challenged each other, and inspired better choices…

Your hands reach for things unseen in a place between wakefulness and a dream.

I hate the furrow of your brow when you are lost to us all traveling your mindscape to places your heart can’t escape.

Your eyes shine brighter than my midnight sun if you let it. Please my wayward traveller, don’t forget it.

Take my ticket and keep it safe. Take my hope for us and keep it sacred. Take my love for you, and know it is true.

Oh, wayward traveller understand my bohemian heart, know it like you know my hand… trust it like it is as sure as dry land for a drowning sailor.

And you, my Wayward traveller should know, too, that I am here waiting for you. And waiting with me is a promise of comfort, of cool water, and clean bed.. where a soul as tread upon as yours or mine may rest a weary head.

Midnight In The Garden Of…

Before the dawn breaks the sky and interrupts this perfect night… know this,

I had fun. I laughed at you, and with you, and a lot at myself because I am so ridiculous.

When daylight comes, I will move from this spot, and find another… and I will remember how I felt last night, and that inner voice will sing a song that stings less.

After dusk, I will dance in my garden with my childrens’ laughter ricocheting off the earth into my heart… and I will know I am what I needed to be all along.

I will understand them, and they will look at me with perfect trust and know that I am the first and last place to come for kisses, and for shelter.

There is no room for the cold world outside our window to touch us in the home we make together. My sons will grow in my garden tall as trees, and inside them will be the roots of a love so great they will only ever have to touch the ground to feel it… to trust in it, and to greet the world with purpose and kindness.

My daughter, my beautiful, complicated, silly, exposed nerve of a girl with big blue eyes, and soft dewy skin will know only strength, and decency, and have perfect faith in herself. She is the change the world wishes to see. I know this because she as all the love in my heart, and feminine wisdom that carries on from the women who come before, and we share their struggle, and triumph. She has a third eye where she can see into the meaning of a man, and know its intention. She has a soft voice that when heard aloud, opens a portal to place of philosophy, humility, and pride. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is perfection personified…

In the gloaming when these 3 sheep are asleep, I will call to you … and tell you that I channeled you here.. that I carried you in my heart, and that I could not have done it today without you. I will tell that my feet got tired. That I remembered your recipe for chicken and noodles, and that I wish you had been here to remind me to be patient with close minded, fear mongering, or as some call her, My Mother. I would have liked to remember that one today.  I will sleep with your song in my heart, because the morning will come again, and I will wait for them all in my garden.  Thank you, nanna for sending the butterflies to me, thank you for sending your love to me… and send some more to her.. she is sad and lost today, too… one day, she will hear you.