Genie’s Pocket -
2014 Columns
December, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
December in California
Oranges hang on trees like Christmas
ornaments. One falls and bounces
behind me as I walk down a hill.
I think back to my mother saying,
October, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
The Date, 1973
We sip from long straws,
share a Trader-
and let rum and curacao send us places
we’re too shy to go. I take a maraschino
cherry and place it between his lips.
He bites. I pull the stem.
September, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
I go to a meditation group to learn
what lures them here. Some sit
on mats, others on chairs. A bell rings
August, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
Carry Me
I'm five, asleep in the back seat, or I was,
until the car pulled into our driveway.
Mother wants to wake me,
July, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
Some Things Require Suffering
I turn into a mad woman,
panicked, certain of doom,
when my husband phones for help
to clean our espresso machine.
The chemical can ruin kitchen counters.
I want information and a plan.
June, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
In June
Jacarandas bloom,
leaving nearby trees
green with envy.
May, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
One night in June, I’m lonely
in an A-
You flap on my glass door
and I let you in. As big
as my hand, you flutter near
and pause by a jade vase.
April, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
What’s the Matter with You?
I’m in the ocean town Cambria,
excited to walk and see sights
when a man I’ve never seen
appears with a leashed Chihuahua.
He chooses to stomp on my life:
March, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
When I found a nickel on the sidewalk
I ran to the corner store. Mr. Jones
tapped his fingers on the glass counter,
waiting—I chose a Milky Way.
February, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
Hiking to Point Buchon
the ground is dry and brown.
A coyote watches me—
he blends into the brush;
bronze legs highlight tawny fur.
January, 2014 Genie’s Pocket
You burst from the starting gate
and though I pull on the reins,
I hang on for the ride,
longing for 1940's snail-
when I wanted to be older, faster, sooner.
Go to Genie’s Pocket 2013 and 2012