Nearly Missed

Clickclackclickclack high heels down the sidewalk, groceries and laptop
cracking kneecaps, tangling; creak-slam-open door and cram
the bags inside, attack ignition with wielded key, crank engine to a whine,
out of time, out of time! Kick in the clutch, engage with a lurch, impatiently flick
on the radio, loud. Quick halt at a stop sign and damn that stabbing sunlight,
hard to see! Release the clutch like hounds and halfway through,
the intersection and time both bend like starlight on a sci-fi show--
    What did I just say?
    Damn that sunlight?
Eyes raise to miraculous sunny November sky,
rays streaming through near-sunset clouds
like lemon chiffon through a pink colander.

Accelerator and back bumper of the car in front
are both given a reprieve, blessings counted
all the way home.

Frustration

Dammit, this isn’t what I wanted.
The love is there, fat glossy
in-chest balloon filled with warm
scent of newly-mown lawns
at summer gloaming. But the wanting-
wishing-not-getting time
lets my air out in a needy helium whine.

Even Sheets

When my mother left her third marriage
she took up ironing. First her own
clothes, then mine; soon my doll's
dresses. Even sheets. She showed me
how to open seams flat,
to start with the yoke and let
everything flow from there.
Sometimes she put little creases
in the fabric as she pressed
the big ones out. Musty,
floral scents of starch and sizing
wafted from her room, next to mine;
I fell asleep to the breathing
sound of the iron’s steam.