Spent the day working at home, cleaning and organizing my desk and closet.  In the midst of the dust upheaval, I unearthed my bin full of old journals and literary magazines.  Thought I’d share a poem of mine published in Spires Literary Magazine, Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri, Spring 2005.  The summer before I returned to school my mother’s father moved in with us due to his decreasing health.  I wrote this while sitting in the kitchen at home one night.

When Grandpa Came to Live With Us

When Grandpa came to live with us–

it was because he needed oxygen

His lungs

think with rainwater,

similar to the

heat-backed thunder,

which stewed outside

Strange enough, Wisconsin summer,

humidity so thick I couldn’t breathe

outside

In the house

a whole woods full

of noises

a cowbird’s call

in Grandpa’s cough

seven june bugs

rattled

like pill bottles

The stir of leaves

cracks of sticks–

an oxygen machine

The long blowing

of the grasses

and tree branches,

steady hum of a sleeping

old man