Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
When I remember you, Tim,
it's through the filter of your brother's stories--
my favorite memories of you
have become the stories he told me.
You policing the sugar he put on his cereal
while he taunted you, tipping just a bit more off the spoon;
your careful, complete assembly of model airplanes
while his, half-finished, were set on fire and thrown off the dock.
The rivalry and love that can probably only be understood
by two brothers born eighteen months apart.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
There's a break in the rain
so we start mopping up.
Looking at swollen wood and damp drywall
and peeling paint.
Every towel in the house is soaking wet
or being washed and dried
so it can be soaking wet again.
But with every heavy load
of laundry I carry upstairs
my heart feels lighter.
It's a load that I can carry.
My back is strong.
There's blue sky on the horizon,
and it's almost Christmas.