Author Archives: janishaag

(for Popoki) There was rain in the nightjust before dawn when I tiptoedinto the kitchen to peek at hersleeping in the cardboard boxshe had chosen near the back door. I had lined it with towels easilylaundered, now that accidents oftenhappened, … Continue reading →

When you blast poppy orangeall over March likean enthusiastic kid fixatedon that one color screaming“Me! Me!” in the crayon box. You are spitting up poppies everywhereall at once with some stocky lupinethrown in—both the lemon varietyand the vibrant purple, not … Continue reading →

My sister posts under a poem I’ve sharedabout our mother, Miss you and dreamt of you and Dad last night. And I, not for the first time, envy myyounger sister—far more slender, blonder, more organized and efficient than I.But not … Continue reading →

(for Cliff) Deep in the night I dreamyou holding a sphere of light, a mass that requires both hands—do you still have hands?— though light, it turns out is, well,light, hardly weighs a thing, pretty much weightless, butcradled in your … Continue reading →

(for Mom) Two months after you die, we have your housecleaned out and ready for renovation. Three months after you die, on a cloudy day,I drive from my town to yours to pick upfrom the cleaners a couple of Grandma‘safghans … Continue reading →

(for Rosie Just Giel) Today we have a new family memberwho, with some help, has emerged from her shell to find two parentswaiting for her, along with a brother and grandparents eager to tuck herunder their wings to keep her … Continue reading →

My favorite poem is the one I haven’t written yet.—Martha Silano When people ask, it’s impossible to choose.Not just of my own poems, which I can’t recite,but of all the poems that live in my heart, and, thankfully, on my … Continue reading →

whom I have never met but whoselines have touched me again and again, who is chronicling her gradual decline,but I do not cry for my dead mother? Is it because my mother was not a poet?(She did leave behind some … Continue reading →

It is not an easy assignment, being alive.—Maria Popova So we arrive, then, with an assignment,but it takes us most, if not all, of a lifetimeto figure out what that is? Or do we discern it bit by bit, awarenessdawning … Continue reading →

A loose ribbon of birds arrows over the shoreline,though we hear them before we see them,the gaggle perfectly synchronized,heading north. On our last coastal afternoon for now,we stop walking, look up to take inthe call and response of geese on … Continue reading →