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So, the meeting was good. I was able to write down everything I needed to say in the exact manner I wanted to say it, and my friendboss was able to respond in ways that were flattering and unexpected. Woot woot 🙂

Tonight I have no fancy links or anything fun to share. I’ve just been pushing kids in swings and stoking the bbq, because July. Hp has me under orders to poem fast, because we need to chill for a few minutes before going to bed. Today my boss said that even my self-evaluation sounds like poetry, so I’m going to run with that, and write an eval poem.


I haven’t done anything I said I would, except all the things I have that I’ve forgotten, and those things I didn’t expect to have to do but handled gracefully, like head checks.  There is passion and instinct to reap from the job, and I intend to do it. I’ve got everything I need right here in the desert, and maybe this desert used to be an ocean. Maybe these things called shortcomings in my short-sighted brain are really tough branches, and maybe the cracks in the surface I call weaknesses are really canyons worn by strong rain? Maybe the boulders are smoothed by the strong water, after years or decades, perhaps the strength is in the erosion.

But then comes the pulse, strong and unforgettable, of Monday morning. But then comes deep satisfaction.  But then, certainty is always very far away, for me, and I breaststroke through these meetings with deaf men. There is no step I take that doesn’t feel like falter.

But then,

I’m trying not to be just any kind of woman.


It was a good day. I’m happy. This is a happy poem. Or, it is at least as close as I get. I’m sick of the “I” poems. I’ll get rid of them tomorrow. Also, I have no idea what the picture of the journal has to do with this poem, but I wanted to post a picture with it, and that one was easy to get. Happy Tuesday, poemfriends.