Apology to My Sister

I called you.
A month ago
I left you a voicemail, cordial
with a tinge of plaintive.
Could you tell?
You were drifting on the Hudson,
teaching schoolchildren about tides
or sailing or algae.
Were you cold there, at night?
I think of you when I can’t sleep,
and want to apologize
for pointing that knife at you
when we were kids.
Being a kid
doesn’t excuse that.
I am also sorry
for using my hands and words on you,
or not using them at all.
My silence might have been
the most painful tool.
Tomorrow I fly away
to another home, missing you
by hours.
We’ll share the sky,
gazing at the same fleecy clouds
and patchwork fields,
absorbed in our own respective storylines.

Merry Whatever


Today, I celebrated the birth of Christ.
Or wait, no I didn’t…

Today, I honored the spirit of consumerism and capitalism.
Er, that’s not quite it.

Today, I paid tribute to sugar, butter, and overeating in the name of the holidays.
Perhaps something a bit different…

Today, I spent time with people I love and tried to show them how much they mean to me and how much I appreciate them. Yes, that sounds about right.

Sometimes it just takes me a while to remember.