Ordinary Holy

i’ve been nostalgic for my babies lately.  no, i don’t want another, just remember the sleepless years with a bit of fondness since i finally have some distance.  

this is for all the young mothers, buried under a pile of onesies, tantrums, and spitup, wondering what the hell happened to their voice  and hoping they’ll someday find it again.

somewhere deep down

i am

a poet

but right now,

i’m doing the laundry.


how did this happen,

this daily, mundane takeover?

dishes, diapers, dust –

these are not the things

of which a poet speaks.

but they are the things

of my today.


how do I meld these two words –



without either Continue reading “Ordinary Holy”