MISSING NANA
Just an ordinary drive
here to there
grocery store
maybe stopping for gas
A whimper from the backseat
rearview reveals tears
on Evelyn’s sweet cheeks
What’s wrong?
Nana will never see me do gymnastics
She will, baby . . . just not the way we wish she could.
Okay, Mommy.
Tears pour from the corners of my eyes
I’m sure my mom is trying
to dry them from
mine and my daughter’s
faces
IF ONLY I COULD HAVE MORE TIME
I miss the sting of a break up
The excruciating pain of a broken bone
The shame of so many wrong decisions
The crumbling foundation of my world
during my parents’ divorce
I would gladly feel it all at once
For more time with my mother
IF MY MOTHER STILL WERE
If my mother were a season,
she would be late spring
or early summer. The perfect
weather to visit the beach,
sit outside, sip a piña colada
chardonnay, or Champagne.
If my mother were a place
she would be a private island
in the Caribbean, but she’d let you
visit and entertain you.
If she were a pair of shoes,
she would be a pair of stilettos
that somehow felt comfortable
and made you want to dance.
If she were an entrée, she would
be on the menu at Mille Fluer. If
she were a dessert, she’d be at least
four of them. If she were a movie
she’d be as much Rocky as she was
the Bridges of Madison County.
If she were a superpower,
she’d be magic.
CLS SANDOVAL, PhD (she/her) is a pushcart nominated writer and communication professor with accolades in film, academia, and creative writing who speaks, signs, acts, publishes, sings, performs, writes, paints, teaches, and rarely relaxes. She’s presented at communication conferences, served as a poetry and flash editor, published 15 academic articles, two academic books, three full-length literary collections, three chapbooks, and both flash and poetry pieces in literary journals, recently including Opiate Magazine, The Journal of Radical Wonder, and A Moon of One’s Own. She is raising her daughter, son, and dog with her husband in Walnut, CA.
