Halfway Through

The more moms I meet,

the more a familiar drumbeat:

“Staying home was nearly my defeat.”


Caught in a web of desires and needs,

balancing caretaker with feelings of greed

for wanting to be at work, still taking the lead.


Twelve weeks in and I’m finally learning how

to function as mom and pause in the now.

But soon our days together will take their final bow.


I will return to work, and you’ll go to meet new friends.

The thought of time away makes my heart bend –

partly excited, partly destroyed as my maternity leave comes to an end.


They All Have an Opinion

Their tongues weave words,

a vice around my ovaries.

It’s stunning

how free they feel

to weigh in on –

a body

that isn’t theirs

a family

that isn’t theirs.


“He can’t be an only.”

“Onlies are weird.”

“When’s the next one coming?”


My blood blisters at their comments

but my lips are concrete.

All of my replies

drip with four letter expletives.


I want to wear a sign around my middle:

Solicitors Not Welcome.

2014 World Cup

The schedule was ridiculous,

A three hour block post-test,

You already checked out for the summer.


So we made a plan.


You piled dollars and coins into my hands

and she took me to the market

where she ordered for us in Spanish.


Loaded up on sticker packs and food

(chicken, rice, beans, plantains),

we returned, and you swarmed me

like I was Chicharito,

the bags, the Golden Boot.


We pried open packages trading

cards and snacks while the crowd

buzzed on the Smartboard in front of us.


2010 World Cup

We commandeered

the library,

strung a big white sheet from corner to corner

and streamed the games through Univision.


Five or six classes filled hard plastic chairs,

jamming the metal legs together,


to be nearest the screen.


Our collective breath held, we watched

Clint Dempsey find the back of the net

on a cross, his header crisp –

a buzzer beater.

We cheered and called for replays.


Early in the tournament we were

All aglow with possibility.

The Price is Right

Summer mornings I would lay

on my grandparents’ bed and watch

as contests were called –

“Come on down!”

They all loved Bob, wore shirts

with silly slogans

about their desire to be chosen.


Now, I watch it while he naps next to me. 

There’s still slogans and shirts,

but it’s Drew that they love

and I can’t remember

how close you have to be to win

both showcases.