Category Archives: Poetry

Quarterday Review

Check out the CURRENT ISSUE of Quarterday Review.

They’ve published the tiniest poem of mine. 😊


#99lines of poetry

Poetry wins!

Thanks to everyone who gave feedback on what the next project should be. 99 days of poetry has commenced on Instagram, now through October 31. If you want to instafollow, find me @mamezirro or search #99lines.

I wish you a life less blah, more grand 
A story less abridged, more annotated 
Love more complete, less complicated
Less rain, more sun
Less pain, more fun
A life less or, more AND.

These hands

imageThese are the hands I raise to heaven
When I thank God for you.
These are the hands that will guard your heart,
Defend you,
Hold your face when I kiss you,
Wipe away your every tear,
Fold in prayer for you,
These are the hands.

This is part of a poem I wrote fourteen years ago, shortly after my first son was born. Unearthed today in the midst of a search for something else.

Maya Angelou, are you haunting me?

This morning I woke up trying to recite the words to “I know why the caged bird sings.” Whatever dream preceded it was long gone.

Later on, checking email, I shivered a little to see that this very poem is the poem of the day.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill/of things unknown but longed for still
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill/of things unknown but longed for still

“Caged Bird”’s poem of the day

Does it mean something? Is the great poetess trying to communicate with me from the beyond? I don’t know yet, but since it’s on my mind, here’s a work in progress I started several months ago when Ms. Angelou flew this world.

I know why

she sings:

for the supper
she herself must make

for acknowledgement
she craves but cannot believe

for fences she never sat on

for— and against—
choices she did not make

for memory of when her voice flew free
and of when it took leave

for the children who ask always why? never
why not?

write if you dare

your mother insists
“i never did / said / meant that”
you will say oh no

i merely wrote down
hypotheticals told by
fictional parents.

your partner demands
“i never treated you bad”
you will say I know

i was just musing
about things going worse with
more abusive husbands.

your best mate retorts
“it’s not — it’s complicated”
you will say of course

i overheard wrong
what you must not have said to
mutual so-called friends.

your own heart will say
“it was all in my head” — yet
do my thoughts betray?

we squirm / discern truth
and by denial affirm
our collective guilt.