A Wifely Haiku

What’s for dinner, dear?

Every night and day, there’s food.

My job?  I think not.

Another Mother's Sorrow

Someone else’s sorrow

Weighs heavy on my heart

Another mother’s tragedy

Is my cautionary tale

We are all mothers together

Who cry for another mom’s child

& pray for those lost children

Whose families still wait to exhale

God bless the mothers whose children

Still have another chance

A close call averted

A lesson learned in time

But a breath and then another

For the grieving mother

A grief we can’t imagine

Until we step across that line

Then missing socks and slamming doors

Will fade to what took place before

So I refuse to let them play

A starring role in my today.

Ode to a Grocery Store

To me, they sell memories.

Of a first high school job

And college job, too.

Responsibility and first paychecks

And bosses who played second dad.

Of the car that burned up

In the parking lot

For real.

“Would the customer with a gray Ford Mustang

Please return to the customer service counter--

Your car is on fire.”

Of those silly shopping carts

Shaped like cars

That the children loved

But were so hard to steer

That we took the turns

At wide angles

Of the years I made deals

With two guerrillas

Jonesing for candy at checkout

Just five more minutes

And we’re through

One more aisle to go

Of today’s half empty cart

With no Gatorade

or pasta needed

In record time

And for half the bill

Maybe the cart’s half full?

First Days

Thrilled children with chubby cheeks
Leftover from babyhood

Wearing cartoon character backpacks
So big they can’t stand straight

And clutching lunches that melancholy mothers made for them

The night before---

First days of kindergarten

Adolescents, thumbs jammed in their pockets
Squirming in belts and collared shirts

Rolling their eyes and checking their text messages
Way too cool to pose for a picture, mom

But we’ll do it for you

If you leave us alone—

Middle school madness

And a high school girl

Who wrestled cancer all spring and summer

Returning to school in triumph
No photograph needed
Imagine it with your heart

Her grin blinding friends to her bald head

Delighted for a first day back at school.

Daughter Mine

I don’t miss her.

I don’t miss her calling (shrieking, really) from five rooms away.

“Mom, can you come pin my dress-

Find my sweater

Clean up dog poop

Answer this question?”

(You chose the demand.)

I don’t miss this at all.

But, it’s so quiet here

I can hear myself breathe

And the tap, tap, tap

On the keyboard

Writing about the daughter I’m not missing.

I listen for the ping of the text

Or the ring of the phone

I know she will call eventually.

When she needs money

Or something else important.

She won’t be able to yell from five rooms over though

And I won’t hear her from 625 miles away

This is a blessing, I know.

My husband thinks we should

Tie her funds to her ability to communicate

With us.

One dollar a picture.

A quarter a word.

I know that won’t be necessary

She’ll call because she loves us.

Tomorrow.

Tale of Ten Athletes in Munich - A Villanelle

Written October 1976


Long live Israel, he cried in pain
No longer a man, just a Jew
While the world looked on in pain

They shot him once and then again
With a hate that would never be through
Long live Israel, he cried in vain.

Like cattle they herded the "chosen" men
The elite of Israeli youth
While the world looked on in vain

And in the midst of Olympic games
Time passed and the tension grew
Long live Israel, he cried in pain

German guilt grew deeper then
In a land where their fathers killed, too
While the world looked on in vain

The killers would strike again and again
From murder in Munich to bombs in Beirut
Long live Israel, he cried in pain
While the world looked on in vain

Momness

By Sue-Ellen Sanders

Warning, warning, out of control

Control-freak mom who has no soul

Seeking the answers to queries in spades

Any way, shape or form, there’s info I crave…

Is she safe?

And is she content?

How are her days

And her evenings spent?

She should send me a photo

Or send me a word

Forward the punch line

To a joke she’s heard

Are the boys behaving?

Are the soccer practices tough?

Is it rainy or sunny?

I can’t know enough!

She’s away at college

So far away that I freak

A busy girl is a happy girl

It’s just been one week.