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Honey Bear

November 17, 2017



I am told

I have a sad face

it is a fact

even when I don’t feel

particularly so

everyone used to say it

why do you look so sad?

the constant inquiry as a child


Once I was given a bear

I called “Honey”

with the same eyes

the same expression

he is sad like you

said the gifter

I loved the bear and so

maybe I was glad for the likeness

our twin frowns

wrapped up

together in sleep


Did I feel more loved then?

All the attention to my mood

invisible middle child

look at me! look at me!

I began to own it

worked hard at being sad

like a reluctant grave digger

feeling every aching muscle of it


But even then I understood

no one understands

there were things happening beneath

unable to explain

it wasn’t sinister

or splintery

it was making a home in the dark

like a childhood closet

accompanied by the melodious moan of a solo cello

that sadness, blessed melancholy

became as soft and dependable

as the curly warmth

of the bear









I recently had the pleasure of being invited to read some of my poems at Bellas Artes in San Miguel as part of the Poetry Cafe sponsored by the Literary Sala. Gracias Maia Williams!

(photo: Kareena Denley)

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