run on sentences

I didn’t know how much my mom loved her grandchildren Till I had my own The first one, newly born when I held him Looked up at me with the eyes of my son who looked at me in a new way with his own eyes Already showing so much love Scarlett’s relief, and how beautiful she looked Even after so many hours of labor “I can’t believe she wants to eat” Billy said in wonderment That once the baby came out the pain stopped And the joy began I felt my mom’s presence that day Knowing she kissed him on the forehead  And sent him here probably with some admonition Like, “be nice” or “it will be better in the morning” Later Roman arrived  We weren’t there but I spent all day knitting, waiting I saw the pictures  Of Desmond greeting him with amazement His eyes wide,  hand in front of his mouth When I held him he was a few weeks old His contented look foretold of his future cheer Arms and legs practicing their movement In the sunlight in that bright room in Bogotá And that dimple, only on one side Cr

I was thinking that once someone, an old boyfriend?  My young husband? Once told me  “You make me want to be a better person” I saw it written out in cursive handwriting On a card with hearts, a valentine Or maybe it was a birthday Then I realized it was Jack Nicholson who said it To Helen Hunt in the movie “As good as it gets” Damn  - I laughed out loud And yet there is  a sense of regret Of wishing to leave a mark But maybe I failed Do people notice me at 7 am Walking my old dogs up the street at a very slow pace And do they miss me when I don’t ? Is it the staying home  The anonymity of wearing a mask, my lipsticked lips  Leaving a mark on the inside Is this why I wonder about my mark in the world Maybe people go through life not knowing If they made life good f or someone Then, I think of 135,000 people in the US And many more in the world Dead of Covid 19 And I know there is a big big hole In the lives of those who loved them May we never stop trying to be the one Who makes othe

I am not racist, I always told myself I was in first grade in 1960 When Ruby Bridges, escorted by federal marshalls Was the first black child to go to an all white school. I didn’t know about her My town was filled with everyone who looked like me Blonde, blue eyed white, freckled by the sun I was ten when the civil rights act passed It was a time when we had black licorice candy  Called Nigger babies And Mrs. Butterworth syrup in its bottle Shaped like a stout, kind black mammy. The scandal of a very blonde and pale Mae Britt Marrying a contrasting dark Sammy Davis Junior I remember seeing their picture  In my mom’s Photoplay magazine I was 12 before I saw a negro, What we called a black person then My sister and I went to Milwaukee in the late 60’s I had never been to such a big city I wrote in my diary that I was afraid of the large dark men  That I saw for the first time I didn’t understand why I was afraid No one told me to be