June bugs will wear white sandals after Labor Day.
They will even arrive in May,
Rather than fashionably late in June,
As god intended.
They’re rather gauche and lacking grace.
But this one of mine
Has a particular shine I love,
So I forgive.
“Live and let live,” say I,
Even if I have to dig him out of the dog’s water dish
Every day.
-jenn
This is Oklahoma.
People want to know:
Is it a red state?
Or is it blue?
Do we allow protests?
Who do we worship?
But this is Oklahoma
In the morning,
When it rains on the Sunflowers,
And birds sing.
And lightning lights the morning sky,
And thunder rumbles through what’s left
Of the sultry night,
And you would almost think you were in Kansas
Or Arkansas,
Or Texas if you could get beyond
The red Red River.
But this Oklahoma,
This is the world,
The beautiful planet that we call earth.
This is me
Standing in
The invisible rainbow
That will never be seen
By those who only want to see with their eyes,
And label the names of what color and size everything is.
And this is you,
Basking in the infrared and ultraviolet
And the bluest blue
That happens when
It rains on sunflowers in the morning in Oklahoma,
As the world spins through a spiraling galaxy
Of light and dark matter,
With birdsong sweet,
And the smattering clatter
Of the Lord’s percussion,
More thunder for us.
You want to know what Oklahoma is?
This is Oklahoma.
-jenn
These little chinks in my armor
Are called stretch marks.
They’re caused when something new begins to grow
Very quickly inside of you.
Something grew and grew and grew,
So much so, my tegument gave in
And stretched almost to breaking point.
These little chinks in my armor
Seem like imperfections of my skin,
But I see them as new beginnings,
Proof beyond any birth certificate,
That my body is a place where the miraculous can happen,
And it did.
If I eat this banana and it becomes me,
That should be enough
To see that we have something magic happening
In each and every one of us.
But I ate a banana and it became you,
My child.
You,
Who have my eyes and hair,
My sideways glances
And faraway stares
And dreams
From other dimensions.
I feel.
And in this world
So fake and pseudo fair,
I seem overgrown with weeds and needs and stretch marks,
Which may, in truth,
Be the only things about me that are real.
But behold, Renaissance is still present in my heart.
It beats,
And if I can strengthen those around me
By setting an example of self-improvement
And practice self-correction before the very eyes of my children,
We will, too.
Great progress and good fortune are available for me.
It’s all available for you,
For everything…
As well as for these little chinks in my armor.
-jenn
