By Cynthia Arrieu-King
I was hanging with grandparents in a kindergarten
and the teacher drew an accordion wall across
to keep the children in antigravity class together
the grandparents separately graded balloon worksheets
sunlight floated in, the grandparents thoughtful about addition, mulling vacation
Come here I said to the little one too little to be in class, soft as peaches
I want to tell you something and you repeat it back to me next time
She toddled over, put her arms up to hug me, we hugged
She had stars inside her soul, was visibly celestial beneath her coat
More human than human, got it? I cuddled her
Okay, she said, I’m more human than a human
Source: Poetry (December 2017)
More Poems about Activities
I come home,
feet about to bleed
from angry stomping.
“Boy!” says Mom.
“Quit making all that racket.”
But what does she expect
when, day after day,
haters sling words at me
like jagged stones
designed to split my skin?
I retreat to my room,
collapse on the bed,
count, “One. Two....
Nowhere Else to Go
Turn off the lights.
Wear another layer.
(Sounds like a dad.)
(Sounds like a mom.)
You say hand-me-down.
I say retro.
Walk some more.
(See what I did there,
Your name in Sharpie
on a good water bottle.
Backpack. New habits.
No thanks, don’t need a bag.
Tell ten friends
More Poems about Living
A wishbone branch falls
from my Grandma Thelma’s oak
What do you know about magic? e1 asks.
E bends e old body down, turns
the wishbone branch into
a cross, places it around my neck.
I am strapped at the Black River’s right shoulder,
I want to put down what the mountain has awakened.
My mouthful of grass.
My curious tale. I want to stand still but find myself moved patch by patch.
There's a bleat in my throat. Words fail me here. Can you understand? I...
More Poems about Religion
Wake up, greet the sun, and pray.
Burn cedar, sweet grass, sage—
sacred herbs to honor the lives we’ve been given,
for we have been gifted these ways since the beginning of time.
Remember, when you step into the arena of your life,
For the Feral Splendor That Remains
sometimes I strain