A Couple of Poems


Sleep is elusive.

It is a sneaky lover that only comes to visit unannounced.

Lately, sleep has crawled into my bed early and left early, leaving me gasping in the moonlight.

I always want more.

Every time I think I can control it, with pills or routines or mugs of nasty tasting tea, Sleep laughs in my face and tells me “No.  You can’t do anything to me.  I own you and you know it.”

It’s true.  I am the abused lover here.  On the days after a night time beating, I struggle through.

With my blackened eyes and swollen face and shuffling steps, I lie.

Can there be a truce here, or, better yet, a divorce?

I don’t really know.  I think that would require third party arbitration.

I don’t think they have lawyers for this; just psychiatrists.


II. Okay, Ya Got Me

Okay, ya got me. I am down on the mat.

The ref is counting, “1,2,3,4…..

Aaaaaaand she’s out of the game”

It’s ok.

I knew it was coming.

What will tomorrow bring?

Will I pop back up, boxing gloves on?

Or will I stumble back into the ring, with the coach, slapping my face to wake me up and get moving?

No amount of money, no bets or amphetamines can tell the story.

If it wasn’t always up in the air, it wouldn’t be me!

But hey, I wouldn’t bet against me , either!


Foggy Bloggy

Tis’ the season to go crazy..

For me, it is a very short trip!

I thought I had made Christmas more of a streamlined thing now that my primary holiday is Hanukkah.  No! Silly me!  Christmas is still celebrated in my mixed household and I wouldn’t want it any other way.  It is just that as kids grow and life circumstances change, it gets more difficult to be the mommy with all the responsibility.

I am very aware that I choose to do the things I do.  I am always glad for the outcomes.  In years past, Stan had a bit of Christmas spirit and that was somewhat contagious.  He is fresh out this season so I have been trying to manufacture my own.

But, each new year brings new dynamics.  High-lights for this year include: a re-occurrence of my pancreatitis symptoms (we do not discuss this) symptoms, insomnia, itching all over, whatever…

And.. Hannah is home from her first semester of college and she is sleeping and shuffling around like a zombie.  Samuel is busy.  He wants to have friends over and play computer games all the time.  When I ask for help, he snarls.

Stan is busy.

My aunt is always complaining how broke she is and tired from taking her neighbor places.

My brother is not well so no help there.

My sister is not even in the picture.

And then, out of no-where, my father in law (who we have not seen in almost 20 years), e-mails this morning that he has sent the kids some checks for Christmas.  WTF??????

He lives in Ecuador, with wife number 3.  My kids have never met him.  He was never a father to my husband:   He was an alcoholic nightmare.

So, I hear he has reformed.  That’s nice.  I just have to say, hearing from him this morning was just another way to point out that the world is truly bizarre.  You just never know what is going to come next.  You think things are all quiet and then you hear the tinkle of  glass breaking and the cat running quickly away from the scene of the tragedy.

You think your life is fairly organized and predictable and then ‘boom’ you end up with another disease complication.  Which in turn, complicates everything else in your life.

Right now, I am upright and moving.  I am not doubled over, puking and in mind boggling pain.  This is all good.  I’ll take it.  I’ll take the check from my long lost father in law and cash it.  I will take a decent health day and cash that too.

You have to grab these things as they pass by.  You never know what will come up next!


A Poem

I am broken.

I am scattered across the floor of what used to be a spacious life.

Now I am hemmed in by the cracks and jagged, pointed edges. Wherever I go, there are shards of glass too small to be dug out yet forever a part of my physical landscape…

Cut, bleeding, bruised.. I try to hide all of the ugly, but you know about it.

You know that I am weak and I am frightened.

I cry out for help where there is none at all to be had.

I blindly push against my boundaries, testing them,smile frozen on my painted lips..


Why do I bother?

That little bottle over there.. It beckons me with its lurid, red, lid. It looks like a mouth: “swallow me” it says.

I would love to attain sweet, sweet nothing: just sleep.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

I promise, promise, promise, I would dream of you.