"No Offense Intended," A Poetry Post

I mean you no offense.
I just don't like you.

I don't like how you
spew your negativity into my
holy space.

I don't like how you
carve out pieces of
discontent in
every golden moment.

I hate the way you kill off
every bit of joy a group can
experience.

When you call me I don't
answer the phone.

I know it's you.

I smile when I see you to
avoid animosity,
because I like peace.

I pray that my brightness isn't
snuffed out by your
burning bitterness.

I used to paint love on your
embers.

I remember lathering you in grace.

And now,
I cannot be a ladle for you.

Look and see.
My pot is empty.

I am smiling now
because there was a time
I had no pot.

I don't need you around
reminding me that
my pot is old and rusted.

No offense intended.

-T. D. James-Moss

"Night Shift," A Poetry Post

My husband works the night shift.

Sometimes when I come in we
pass each other and
smile.

Sometimes we don't.

Last week I
left the car running,
so
when he came bursting from the apartment
he could jump in and
pull away.

We barely said hello or
goodbye.

My husband works the night shift.
Our son is eight.

When he goes to bed his
father is gone. When he wakes up his
father has just gotten home.

He hears his daddy snore in the afternoons.

He watches me scramble to get breakfast
done
at
6:30 in the morning.

He asks me,
"Mommy? Are you done already"
because he's into cooking.

He wonders if
his father will wake up and
take him to the mall before
8.

After 8,
daddy goes nowhere,
but to work.

And me,
I'm just asleep
most of the time.

And that's what it means to be
an American.