If she stopped to feel sorry for herself,
How would she have crimped my hair just right
the morning of my second grade pictures,
If she stopped because she thought the world
owed her something,
Where would she have found time to neatly
press my sister's dress
for her First Holy Communion,
If she stopped,
How would she have taught her daughters
To work after working,
To rise
Between dawn and prayer,
Between duty and joy,
To cry when words won't fit,
And to laugh after that,
That Love
Is Perseverance,
That She was once Us.
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Matriarch – Poetry by AE Lanuza Franken
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Spring – A Poem by AE Lanuza Franken
When Dad was dying,
Still trying not to, but anyway,
Mom would tell him, "Ngisi! "
"Laugh!"
It helps, she'd say,
And he would,
For Her.
So now when there's occasion,
And even when there's not,
I laugh twice as long,
For me,
(Yes, I've changed my mind)
And for Him.
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Bound – Poetry by AE Lanuza Franken
Spine on top of
Spine on top of
Spine.
I'll grab one more,
Yes,
Yes.
I only like a lot of words
When they leap
Inside my own head.
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Bragging Rights – Poetry by AE Lanuza Franken
I'm the Girl
Who knows that a Pizza Puff,
Well-done,
From the Center Lounge
Is worth more
Than a porterhouse from Rosebud’s,
Who makes Mom and Sister laugh,
So that Dad can still hear it,
Who buys seed for the Robins,
Since most of this World
Is outside,
Who cleans up the piss of an
Old Cat,
Because sometimes when you’re old,
You can’t help it, and
I’m
Not one to stop loving
Something that’s worth loving,
As the years grow and
Grow,
Shorter and shorter.
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Freshwater – a Poem by AE Lanuza Franken
Many times, I’d walk into the kitchen to find
My Mom, knife in hand, cleaning a fish.
Scraping away its scales with forceful, calculated strokes,
Scooping out its insides,
Chopping it into pieces that she could manage,
Sometimes a speckle of red would make its way
Onto her cheek,
Or forehead, and
She’d just wipe it off, and
Continue with her work.
One day, I’ll learn how to do this, too:
To shear the things that can cut me,
Without hurting myself,
To discard the parts
That don’t taste so good,
To reshape the impossible
Into the viable,
To wipe away the blood,
And continue with my work.
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Genus – Poetry by AE Lanuza Franken
I don’t recall much about that June day.
Except that you looked so clean and Brown,
Like you were carved from Narra.
And it made me proud to know
That I was carved from You.
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Fairytale – A Poem by AE Lanuza Franken
This is the time When the sun gets Tired, too. When the night Suggests, Fall into me, And she tells Herself Alright. Stubborn girl, Burning Girl, But for a season Or two, She appreciates The cushion.
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Let’s be honest here. – Poetry by AE Lanuza Franken
I don't have to go far, Just to the Backyard Of my Ancestral Home, 20 minutes south of the city, 20 minutes west of where I sit now. It's nothing grand. (Remind yourself: It’s not often grand.) Skinny Trees That stand tall, Despite no one doing Anything to them, With Branches That decide to wind This way one day, That way the next, And Leaves That haven't forgotten What to do with Sun. But they're Older than me, And land developers Haven't cut them down yet, Who wants anything To do with Dolton Anyway, Just the Oldies, Who still know What to do With a Home, Who still know The secret to converting Blood, sweat, and tears Into brick and fresh paint, And a King's view Of those Trees.
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Sunny Side – a Poem by AE Lanuza Franken
You pick 4, And it's a good deal, 5.99, And it's a good deal. Zigzagging Collared cherubs, Warm-ups, half and half, Small, sweet offertories, Silver circling ceramic Like church chimes, Maybe you'll try the French toast This time. You pick Each other, Scoot in closer, Place settings Placed Before your arrival, Declare with fork And knife, An hour and Some Change, I know you. This is a good deal.
aelanuza 