Happy Poem [olivia]

I haven’t written much poetry
But it’s all been pretty dark
Mostly death of people and dreams
Paranoid, I stopped and thought about it
To check my own pulse

Yup, still alive

A life full of family and love and ideas
Of surprise endings and setbacks and shortcuts
Of bandaged knees and battered books
Of make-believe and beef stroganoff
Of coaching, correcting, and collecting
Of really weak push-ups and persistent hiccups
Of flossing, forgiving, and forecast-checking
Of budgeting for propane and pot roast
Of spur-of-the-moment cocktails named after PBS programs
Of debating facts and forgetting debates
Of risks, rejection, and redemption
Of yelling for my team and whispering to stuffed animals
Of singing, snipping, slathering, soaking, surgery, and sock matching

But those things don’t seem to make the cut
They don’t stop me in my tracks
Squeeze my heart and lungs
Knock me on my butt
Make me write it out
The way death does

So I’ll affix my name to this poem
My happy poem
And use a pen-name for the rest