Sample Poems by Bobbi Lurie
Visiting
Day, Casa Tranquilo
When I speak, my mother's eyes jerk
momentarily towards me as if I am
a sound in the trees, a bird pecking away
at the morsel of peace she has found.
She shoos me away with her knotted fingers,
vocalizes without language, I understand
everything, I obey, stare into
the crater of her face, distant moon
tugging me like gravity. She turns away,
bends over to pick up pieces of lint
from the floor. Such tenderness--she lifts them
close to her--the prayer of inanimate objects.
When I leave she does not see me walk to my car,
close the door, start the engine, so grateful
for the red hills dotted with pinon
and the unbroken sweep of the sky.
Burning
The arms of the trees open wide
We are here for such a short time
Do not imagine this dream is yours
My Mother, 79
my mother is
the disappearing field
she walks across