Author: Tamiko Lowery

Cinderella

frozen fingers

on the line

in the sky

an aircraft

the sun on its wing

takes the girl

off the ground

and lifts her

to the cloud

the quiet cloud

wisps in the window

like sheers

in the wind

TL

Unforgiven

he’s revered

at church

by the pastor

and the congregation

whole generations

has a cross

in his yard

and designated awards

and accolades

and ceremonial gestures

of legacy

and so on

and so forth

wherever he goes

somebody knows him

who he is

but do they

really

know him

not even his family

does

he continues on

unscathed

would never admit

any wrongdoing

nobody would ever believe

he was ever wrong

he himself believes

he did no wrong

but the God

he professes to

knows

that grooming

a teenage girl

for sex

is dead

wrong

TL

Only the Strong

heard how

you died

somewhere

inside

wanting

to kill off

the pain

for good

to feel nothing

at all

and you might think

it was all about her

and how she broke you

how you couldn’t bear to live

in a world without her

there

but you gotta know better

better than that

heard about your dad dying

a boy needs his dad at 14

a boy will always need his dad

especially in his 20s

his mother, too

heard she wouldn’t come

wouldn’t come to see you

and that tells me all I need

to know

only met you

that one time

and shook your hand

you can tell a lot about a person

by the way they

shake your hand

I liked you right off

had a sense of a good guy

unsure of himself

you’re gonna get through this

you might think you won’t

right now

but you will

nothing in your life

will ever be this hard

or hurt this much

which will make everything else

just everything else

in time, you’ll see

you’ll see

you didn’t need her

to make you happy

and whole

or your mother to hold your hand

or your father to give you advice

or your friends to understand

you’re made of more than memories

more than this

so much more than this

trust yourself

in who you are

always

TL

In the Puddle

there’s a crescent

moon

carved out

long ago

and I forget

it’s even there

even though

I look in the puddle

every day

as I scrub my teeth

and moisturize

I notice all the sunspots

that freckle my face

and the rings

under my eyes

and neck

and yet

I don’t see

the moon

right there

under my eye

like i did

when i was little

and used to think

it was put there on purpose

so one day

someday

any day

they’d be able to

find me

but I don’t think like that

anymore

looking in the puddle

this morning

I stood there

a moment

staring at the crescent

moon

right there

under my eye

and reached up

to touch it

and thought to myself

it looks more like a tear

like a teardrop

that froze on my face

long ago

and I wonder why

I never realized this

‘til now

TL

Gray

it rained

on my head

and I woke up

with streaks

and every time

it rains

I wake up

with more streaks

and I forget

to cover my head

whenever it rains

‘cause it’s not on the list

and if it’s not on the list …

then I forget

too bad there’s not

a tree

to stand under

there’s never a tree

around

when it starts

pouring down

you get caught off guard

no warning boom

or electric jolt

or shadows of gray

you walk in the door

feeling ok

the sky’s blue

the clouds white

there’s sunlight

babies and butterflies

green grass and pink petals

maybe you stayed

too long inside

and lost track

of time

it got dark

quick

rain without warning

you walk in

and you walk out

and you wake up

in the morning

with streaks

in your hair

TL

My 11-year-old Daughter

 

“how do you

become

a CIA agent?”

 

what? why?

 

“that’s what I want

to be …”

 

yeah, no

CIA go MIA

 

“I’d like to be a spy, too”

 

yeah, no

spies die …

don’t you watch the news

 

“no, you won’t let me”

 

yeah, well

the news is not for you

and neither is the CIA

or being a spy – they all die

 

“but Sherlock Holmes is a spy

and works with the CIA”

 

Oy Vey

 

what happened to you

being a chef

or an architect

or a scientist

or a cartoonist

or an author

or an illustrator

or an interior designer

or being an inventor

like Tesla

you love Tesla

 

“yeah but, I’d rather be a CIA agent

– wouldn’t that be so cool … let’s go to the library

so I can check out some books on the CIA”

 

where’s your father at …

this is all his fault …

he always wanted to be 007 …

go get your father and tell him to come here

NOW

TL

Don’t Get Me Wrong

in ways

too many

to tell

my life

has hastened

not

my back’s

pressed

to the counter

I hold up

gone is the girl

the-gonna-do-something-great-with-my-life-when-I-get-outta-here-girl

who dat

welcome to the misery

that is mid-life

my life

stuck on repeat

this sad, slow, commercial-free song

gone gold

top of the Billboard charts

oh, you don’t know

don’t know that song that’s playing

trust me …

give it five, 10, 20 years

you’ll know

exactly

I get why

people buy bright red cars

and Botox the L out of their face

and change the color of their hair like underwear

and get a passport and fly to anywhere-but-here

and take their money and gamble it even if they don’t know how

and go to rock concerts and jump up and down like dogs at the door

and end up taking yoga and golf and cooking and pottery and Tai Chi

and reading every article about skincare and going organic and what vitamin does what when

and wearing workout clothes for daytime, nighttime, bedtime, anytime

and saying things out loud that you thought you were just thinking to yourself

and pumping gas and wondering who the L is that reflected in the car window you’re looking at

and getting online and looking up the word: Mid-Life …

“the central period of a person’s life, generally considered as the years from about 45 to 55”

10 years of Mid-Life

great

then what

60, 70, 80, 90

wisdom is overrated

undercut

and aging is a cruel crime

indeed

they up and throw away the key

so, if you’re young

be young

I didn’t say stupid

don’t be stupid young

be-smarter-than-you-look-young

so, you can make it to mid-life

60, 70, 80, 90

don’t get me wrong

it is a privilege

to get to grow old

no matter how sad

the song

TL

One Loaf

I’m in

a big box

store

with a buggy

brimming over

with whatnot

and I’m tired

and I look around

and the guy

behind me

puts his one loaf

of French bread

on the conveyor belt

I just look at him

and his bread

and think

“as God is my witness

this will be me

one day, someday

without a buggy

with this one loaf

of French bread

and nothing more”

this is a simple guy

who probably lives

a simple life

he seemed at peace

with himself

and his simple life

I love simplicity

and yet I choose complexity

every single time

why is this

I could take every single item

out of my house

my car

and I guarantee you

it’d all find its way back

inside

why is that

I’m confounded

I like that word: confounded

think I’ll go to the store

and buy one loaf

of French bread

and nothing more

(I gotta know what that feels like

at least once)

Update: I walked into Sams

the other day, May 10, looking for

copies of The Giver, but they were all out

so, I walked out … with nothing

and it felt so weird – what do you do with your hands

TL

If, a poem, by Rudyard Kipling 

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

(I memorized and recited this poem aloud at my HS graduation.

It is a poem about resilience, and I can’t help but think of Tiger Woods at The Masters 2018)

Les Chefs De France

I sit

in the square

at a table

with one chair

watching the pace

of people

go by

some measured

careful

others unsteady

weighted

the ease

and grace

mingled with

the faltered

the fragile

canes and wands and swords

wearers of watches

and empty pockets

and mixed-up minds

the fountain rumbles like a distant

waterfall

and the pink flowers

behind black bars

catch the eye

of a passerby butterfly

on its way across

the Seine

where the roses bloom

and extend

like a prima ballerina

rippling across

Swan Lake

TL

Happy Easter Mr. Kraft

in 2015

he stopped

just like that

in a blink …

it was over

he stopped

not because

he wanted to

no

but because

he had to

the shell of his body

no longer worked

the way it used to

like when he was a boy

and he could climb trees for days

no problem

in Easter 1965

there were two

twig-like trees in his backyard

and he hung 18 plastic eggs on them

in Easter 1994

he added 332 to the 18

and then

many, many, many years later

he would use a ladder

to hang his eggs

all 10,000

on his backyard tree

no longer plastic

but real

hand-painted Easter eggs

one by one

he would hang them

off the limbs

of his crabapple tree

10,000 Easter eggs dripping off a crabapple tree

in the snow

is a sight to behold

it’s different than a Christmas tree

all lit up with ornaments

an egg

symbolizes re-birth

renewal

10,000 eggs made him happy

made his family happy

made his neighbors happy

made his country of Germany happy

made people around the world

happy

they came to visit his crabapple tree

babies and toddlers and school-children and teenagers and college students

and young adults and the middle-aged and the silver-aged and the golden-aged

such a simple thing

really

to hang an egg on a tree

and yet it can be

the one thing you did in your life

that really mattered

that meant something

somehow

Happy Easter to you

Mr. Volker Kraft

your tree

made me very happy

indeed

thank you for hanging an egg

on a tree

TL

Dear Dad,

once a year

I open the latches

on the suitcase

I carry

and take out the albums

and turn the pages

the man I remember

is there

the child I was

looks back at me

there are no baby pictures

just an orphan shot

of a toddler

standing in black and white

then sitting beside you

on an airplane

headed home

new photos would fill the frame

in color

those early years

while only a handful

would live inside me

unspoken

until your passing

when your heart exploded

mine did, too

I picked a Midler song:

“Wind Beneath My Wings”

and tried to go on

I think I loved you

a little too much

is all

I know you’re still here

with me

that you never left me

my hair is slowly turning gray

I call them my highlights

before long

we’ll be the same age

I can still see you

clearly

the way you were

and I don’t need a photograph

for that

TL

Parallel

a ray of light

laced through the leaves

of two sequoia trees

and somewhere between

the gift and the sea

the storm broke

momentarily

as thunder and lightning

subsided

and tornado winds

stilled

a gentle rain

fell down

like the sunlight

through the cloud

soft and hazy

TL

That I Loved You

25 years ago

today

your death

would change me

change the course of my life

and maybe I’ll never understand

the why

all I know is

you called me that night

right before

and we talked for the last time

you were just getting off work

and would be home any minute

that’s the thing about minutes

they never stop ticking

you can fall in love

and get married

and you can find yourself

a l o n e

pacing the floor at night

‘cause he’s late coming home

waiting is the worst

10 years can go by

and you become somebody’s mom

and you realize

this beautiful baby

has the power

to break you

like nothing else

could

and the minutes keep ticking

for all of your life

the minutes keep ticking

you can live through the hardest times

and accept what you’re afraid of

understand what’s out of your hands

that pacing the floor is part of it

part of loving someone so much

is the part I struggle to find

how to let them go

knowing what I know

some of us get to grow old

and some of us

do not

the whole of life

is in this moment

would that I never forget

in the dark of night

the lonely hour

pacing the floor

waiting …

would that I never forget

TL

Don’t

I’m too sad

to speak

so don’t talk

daffodils don’t talk

but they say things

I’ve watched them

in a storm

and saw them

the morning after

standing

their bulbs lit

on the ground

TL

Whence

I stare

at water

the way it moves

or doesn’t

but can

like liquid in a kettle

or a bath

I stare

at fire

the way it starts off

like a blink

on a cake

and ends up spitting out sparks

grilling trees

into char

one section at a time

‘til there’s nothing left

but ash

I stare

at clouds

until they make sense

and then pull apart

like cotton candy

at a fair

sometimes they just sit there

like a marshmallow in hot chocolate

slowly melding

I stare

at snow

how it covers everything it touches

then disappears

like the rain

I stare

at the wind

even though I can’t see it

I feel it

running through my hair

or barely breathing

against my cheek

it can make a Monarch butterfly

miss its flight

to Mexico

and carry a kid’s balloon

so far off

it becomes

a tear

falling

from Heaven

TL

Faith

a packet

of seeds

and some

soil

TL

Kane Brown

man

I love your sound

heard you in my sleep

music moving through my mind

a gift given

in your darkest hour

when you had nothing …

you had everything

put your pain on the page

and lifted it

stadium high

love ‘em all

the whole album

Cold Spot

Better Place

Learning

but track 13

I mean

c’mon

the melody

is everything

TL

Resilient

a tree

can stand

so strong

and steady

for a thousand years

its bark

once soft

with scratches

the branches bending

in leafy green

transforms

in time

the elements rewind

fire and rain

do damage

a relentless wind

rips off every leaf

a brush of lightning

a trail of termites

an axe at the back

takes its toll

seasons shed

ice over

thaw in spring

new growth appears

like butterflies

and bumblebees

and chainsaws

and even thousand-year-old trees

can fall

slam to the ground

in seismic vibration

a tree no more

becomes instead

timber

lumber

firewood

furniture

or framing

hardwood flooring

a door

a boat to float away in

statues

baseball bats

bow and arrow

skis

hockey sticks

a coffin

or simply a sheet

of paper

to write on

draw on

or fold

into

origami

chains

and airplanes

for nothing

ever does

remain

the same

TL

As Time Goes By

for the rest

of their time

on earth

they will wait

as day folds into night

and night folds into day

and the seasons become one

they will wait

they will never stop waiting

no matter where they go

or what they do

or what happens

or doesn’t happen

they will be there

waiting …

for their children

to come home

from school

TL