Work from Home Poetry

My director at work gave us a challenge - come up with a haiku that's related to the fact that we're having to work from home. I played to win with one referencing a meeting that she had been on when a squirrel kept coming into my apartment behind me during the meeting. She had enjoyed the show quite a bit, so I started with the squirrel in mind. 

The one I submitted to the competition was my second attempt. I wanted to make sure that I cleaved to the haiku standard of referencing the season in some way, as well as keeping the syllable count. 

squirrels at the door

grown bolder with summer's heat

I work at their home

My scheme only worked so far; had I known my director has a penchant for rhyming verse, I would have used that technique, nontraditional though it would be for haiku. I came in second place to a rhyming haiku that was also pretty funny. No squirrels though, minus points. 

I used to very much prefer having my poetry rhyme, but as I grew older I came to appreciate the lack of rhyme as well. Though I still like a structure and a pattern. Haiku is nice for that, because the structure is provided. And, quite frankly, in America the syllable scheme is pretty much the only thing we pay attention to with haiku. 

Maybe I'll write a few more of these; they might be a good focus while hiking. I like trying to condense my intentions into such small spaces. 

What Do You Take Me For?

"What are you?"
The question never bothered me as a child. I was proud to know my heritage. Proud to answer, "English. Irish. German. French. And Peruvian!"
It was always that last one that they wanted to hear. And then I'd ask them what they were, these little white kids, and they - mostly - wouldn't even know.

It wasn't until a long time later that I realized that sometimes those questions weren't so innocent. And, of course, as an adult I don't hear it so much because it isn't polite.

I had a teacher in high school two years in a row and it took him a year and a half to realize that I wasn't Italian. And it isn't like he "realized" not really. It came up in the course of conversation in class somehow.

My husband thought I was white when we met.

And I am white.

And I'm not white.

It all depends on what you take me for.

I have a precarious white privilege. Straddling the line between the pale generations my mother's family can trace back in time to grand old Europe and the fact that my father was born in South America.

I've been presumed Mexican
cursed as a lesbian
but the privilege my pale skin produces is
utterly dependent on
what I am taken for
day to day
hour to hour
face to face to face
I lucky
am I lucky?
To be able to "pass" on cursory inspection?
With only a hint of the exotic if you're looking for it
A trace of the hot blood, as I've heard it called
not worse. not the worst.
to be able to pass.
but scary in the way that I don't know
which kind of face the face I'm facing will see in me
today

Accidental Poetry

Recently, the voicemail app on my phone updated. Voice to text used to be a premium service, but it appeared after the last update. I have quite a few messages from my mother that I haven't listened to, sitting in my voicemail box because when I see a message longer than 2 minutes, I blanch. And when I see a 5 minute message, I lose the will to continue to listen.

Besides, my mother will most likely not remember that she left me a message and will repeat whatever it was that she took 5 minutes to say the next time we speak.

But now, I can read the messages she leaves instead of listening.

And there's just something wonderfully poetic about the app's interpretation of her words.

I'm seriously considering never answering the phone when she calls again. I mean, I'll call her back, but I'm just getting so much entertainment value from this:

Hey Ambrose and Jeanne.
I guess you're not there now.
Sorry I'm still waiting for Connie which-i-think-she's coming.
I'm not getting my cell phone.
I told Peter I need it in writing.
I know how to do it the same thing happened-when we were trying to reach you in the computer and they give me the written paper that ready-whenever you get computer is.
Anyway thanks.
Love you.
Bye bye. 

*snap* *snap* *snap*