The art therapist asked as if it were a breeze,
“Why don’t you sculpt ‘a mother’, please?”
I nodded, polite, but my eyebrows twitched
A grin tugged my young lips - while the plan suddenly switched.
No apron. No carriage. No dress stitched in blue.
I began to sculpt fins for a glimmering hue.
I rolled out a belly, bold and round,
And I shaped her with pride from the hips on down.
“There”, I said: “A pregnant mermaid with long brown hair…”
Not the mother she asked for, but I didn’t care.
I giggled inside as I built her a tail,
A preposterous idea, a mythical fail.
But when I was done, I stopped and stared.  
Because the mermaid was whimsical, strange, strong, and fiercely rare.
Not merely off base - just hard to define.
The myth I made up - turns out it was mine.

So yes, I defied and maybe I teased
But while sculpting the fins, I began to feel pleased.

She wasn’t wrong, or wild, or something to fix.
She just shimmered with questions and clever tricks.
And maybe, just maybe, that mermaid was just me.
Or the woman I’ll  carve space for… to someday be seen.

I met you in Jerusalem
Where every limestone was worn smooth with time
And ever corner hummed and whispered
From the sacred and sublime

I asked for directions, just passing through,
Your smile felt like something new.

We wandered streets as daylight waned,
Past alleys where the past remained.
In a playful tone, you turned to say,
“If I were just a gardener, I’d pick you a flower every day.”

I laughed aloud but your words stayed near
Simple, tender, and strangely clear.
The words softened the cities’ ancient weight,
And for a moment bent the hand of fate.

We parted as travelers often do,
With no promises, just a fleeting truth.
But I wonder now, across the seas,
If you think of California’s mountain breeze.

Would you have planted orange flowers
On hills that glow in the summer’s haze?
Would you be a gardener?
Your name meaning golden, fruitful place?

Instead, I smile to know that instead you code,
Building worlds with logic’s mode.
Still In the quiet corners of my mind,
I plant your words through seeds of time.

When the famished sun,
Once vivid, lush with hue,
Swallowed shades that it once knew
The cyan skies dissolved to gray
The emerald leaves curled and frayed.

The rainbows who once arched so long
Became a smudge, dark brown mélange.

For days the sun feasted in muted shade,
Till time unraveled, slow, delayed.

Waiting beneath the blankened sky,
Laid buried seeds, their roots entwined,
A quiet earth with loam inside.

The seeds whispered winds for rain to fall,
Dancing tropic movements to heed a call.

They bloomed to jasmine and crowned the night
A nectar sweet, a bright delight
With petals soft and fragrance shared,
A white fluorescence lit the air.

Your thumbtack
This concept
This artwork
shakes paper
It’s absolutely beautiful
It’s sensational
It made me feel things I cannot describe
Can I keep it?
I’d like to hold onto it for a very long time

As I daydream about getting down to brass
My eyes gaze at the bare wall
I begin imagining that I am a thumbtack
Your thumbtack
Yes, I did just objectify myself, didn’t I?
But I have these feelings now
Whereas I didn’t before
Because you did not resist the other purposes I felt I had at the time
Leading up to this moment
You never tried to make me dull
And even now, I do not feel feeble
I feel sharper than ever
Sharp enough to be pushed into a wall
Pushed as hard as you’d like
Just to hold this concept tightly
In the same fashion that your arm is placed around my back
And in the way my ******* feel beneath your chest

Like water and oil do we swirl
As my eyes close
Your eyes open
And again we dance fluidly
Nearing
And changing course
The sun sets and you think of me
The sun rises and I think of you
But neither dare to shake the bottle once more

A counterpoint duet
Looping and dipping
Dripping and flipping
Tossing and turning

Finally
An emulsifier

I’ll never forget the time we stirred
It was the moment we both said
“Stop”
At the very same time

But in the end it was all just an intellectual exercise
We could never truly bond.

My chest spasms...
Tightening vessels resemble bricks
Who knew that memories could feel so heavy
My eyes close for a moment
Flashes of your faces yank violently onto my optic nerves
While my brain attempts to circumnavigate
Turn regret into something easier said than done
My fists clench feeling hot and cold simultaneously
Air rushes into my wrinkled lips
While I breathe NEARLY all of this lingering essence out
Out of my lungs
And I try yet again to return to earth
Hearing an emphatic rhythmic pump
and your well–intentioned attempt to turn words into quietude