La Mariquita

Mariquita, Mariquita,
con tu falda pequeñita,
puntos negros sobre rojo—
no sé cuáles son tus ojos.
¿Miras tú aquí? ¿allá?
¿Dónde ahora saltarás?
Vuelas ya con tanta prisa
Y me dejas con una sonrisa.

[translation]

Ladybug, ladybug,
with your tiny skirt,
black dots on red—
I can’t tell which ones are your eyes.
Are you looking here? Or there?
Where will you jump now?
You fly away so quickly,
And leave me with a smile.

The Best Worst Poem

A green cow went Moo—
and Trampled me.
-M.A., 7th grade

Do you really think this poem
—all two lines of it—
is in the style of Emily Dickinson,
per the assignment?

Let’s compare it to our notes.

Emily is fascinated
by the mysteries of nature
—why is that cow green?—
not to mention Death. Check.

Dashes and Capitals—yes and Yes.

A surprisingly elegant
slant rhyme of Moo
and Me, leaning into
absent consonants.

Short and untitled—those are gimmes.

And to top it all off—
the drama! Action!
Mystery (again with the green?)!
Even dialogue!

Could this be, perhaps… a masterpiece?

Arati

softly
manifesting
she glows into the world
and the light within each of us
dances

Ballet Dancer, Age 10

her eyes
reflect older
memories than her years
more confident grace than her limbs
yet know

her soul
poised expectant
waits to balance spirit
and form again as it has done
before

Thalia's Age

Thalia’s age is a three-step process:
palm thrust forward,
thumb tucked in,
hand flipped around.
This many.

Are you
five? she asks.
Or six?

Together
we gather my age
in handfuls,
three bunches
and a big,

as someday I
will gather
all my bunches of years,
hold them up,
turn them inward,
and show them
to eternity.
This many.

Guy

Guy! Guy!
Oh, what a guy!
So indescribably,
guilelessly high!
Argyle guises
disguise not his eyes
that scry out the kayaks
and kites in the sky!

Guy! Guy!
Oh, what a guy!
Guy dances down guidelines
that guide him to pies.
The choir, quiescent,
its guidance implies.

Guy! Guy!
Inscribe though I try,
I quietly cry that I
cannot describe
that kindly and, yes,
quite chimerical Guy!

Magnetism

There’s something about a smile
Any smile
That draws you in.

A child’s smile, especially,
Teetering towards you
On a tiny bike with training wheels,
His helmet nearly as big as his head.

It brightens your day
Just to see him beaming up at you,
Proud of his slow, majestic wobbling,
Eyes half-closed in bliss.
You can’t help but smile back.

There’s something about a smile
Your smile
That calls to his.

Kindred souls
Sharing a wordless joy.

The resulting collision takes you both completely by surprise.


[based on a true story]