Mommy turns in front of the thingy that shows her back to herself. She flits in front of it and looks at her ankles, then her thighs, then she squishes her hands in front of her all funny-like and tries to look at her butt.

What is Mommy doing? I think to myself.

“Hey, sweet boy. Do these jeans make Mommy look fat?”

She swipes at my chin, then cups her hand under it gently and scratches in a circular motion. Even though this feels good — I know better. I’m not answering that question.

I look up at her…

Musical Selection: Cheryl “Pepsii” Riley|Thanks for My Child

I gently close the door behind me. Titus is sleeping in my arms. The first thing I think is, Have we decorated the nursery with everything he’ll love and adore? I know we did. It feels like we did. He smiles. Angels must be visiting him. Or could it be something neurological?

I’ve always believed that old wives’ tale. I believe in angels. I believe in good luck. I believe in miracles.

And Titus . . . he’s our miracle.

Who wouldn’t want the newness of innocence swaddled in purity? I am grateful for Elena. She carried him for us…

Phyllis is holding a bullfrog in her hands; captured this morning at 05:00 am. Its back legs have been run over by some sick kid’s 12-speed bike. She’s beside herself with sadness. The tears flow rhythmically.

I watch them as they become art on her face.

Yesterday, my goldfish died. We held a small ceremony in my parents’ bathroom. I said a few words, my dad eulogized its life. My mom cooked baked ziti afterward.

I want to tell Phyllis I know about her pain — I’ve seen death recently and it stings more than the damaged back legs of…

Musical Selection: Madonna|Take A Bow

An Audio Poem

And I know you will
I know you'll crouch
on bended knee, spit your
cause to our mighty God
and pray for my soul
I don't ask you to
because I can't change
who I am
I wouldn't try if I could

This displeases you
you hate that I've deviated
from whatever plan you
had mixed up in
your bag of tricks for
loved ones who should
walk exactly the way
you think they should

but I am no one's puppet
I have no strings

Funny how you thought you could Houdini a grown-ass woman into being…

“I am not a cold-hearted person.” This is what I say to her as I summon the will to walk away from six years of loving a person who dawdled between loving me and someone else yet couldn’t let go of either of us. “How convenient it must be to have what you want when you want it. It is the very meaning of selfishness. It’s not love.”

My last statement sticks to her heart and settles in its rightful place. She moves toward me, gliding on what I’ve come to know as the legs of a goddess.

I stand…

Have we always been so
bad at being human or
did we arrive at this point
over time?
Is inhumanity ingrained
in our souls and passed
down to generations after us?

We're flailing about in time
knocking down common sense
and running over logic.
I've had my share of selfish
people and my stomach is full
of disdain for my brethren
who'd rather skip rules
and toe a harsher line.

One day, the spirit of togetherness
will envelop us and mark us
with its care. …

it's nearly hurricane season
Spring is rushing in with
her hands flailing wildly
among the trees
the sky is hovering in wait
it spits violently from its mouth

we are huddled in safe spaces
keeping away from windows
and finicky doors
meteorologists plot and plan
and untruthfully dictate when
to expect the worst
I flit from channel to channel
praying for validity

I can hear the wind howling a loud and present reminder for me to remain patient the sun is eager to shine again and we'll find ourselves gathered out in the open to feel something more than the…