Category Archives: relationships

Mom’s High School Boyfriend

Mom and Me in 2009 Copyright MDMikus

Mom’s High School Boyfriend

If war had not come
and he had lived on and
they had stayed together
I would not have been born.

The unique combination of genes
the lattice upon which I grew to be
the one choosing this path for myself
all that would not…exist

here and now anyway
whatever you believe about
alternate universes where
the other forks in the road were taken.

My potential existence hung uncontrolled
on so much unbeknownst to me—
the baby yet to come—then
if war and chaos and despair

had not shaken the world
like a snow globe but violent
and at the conclusion settled back into
a sailor and a nurse meeting

through mutual friends, marrying
in their common parish church
raising seven children
me being the second.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
(c) 2015

Published in Journal of Modern Poetry, vol. 20, (2017) The Poetry Writer’s Guide to the Galaxy

The Kind of Silk Parachutes Are Made Of

Waterfire, Providence, RI by M D Mikus Copyright 2010

2/9/17

The Kind of Silk Parachutes Are Made Of

(After Crystal, Peter Mulvey, Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Love is not reserved
for those deemed deserving
the few familiar inner circle

Love is the necessary antidote
to pervasive poisonous fear
let the shadows

be brought to the light
Fear cannot neutralize fear
only love can do that

not the mushiness
of pop culture love
but the surprising strength

of love-silk, each energy fiber
made and woven
by determined due diligence

the healing of tenderness
Love is power, not force
seeing the best in

and holding that sacred space
with hope, but not expectation
Not the dark pull of what is happening

But…
who are you in relation to this?
What are your choices?

Can you take 1 minute and send
to our White House
glitter sprinkles of love

a blizzard of love
At first they evaporate like
snowflakes on a hot July sidewalk

but persist—even a little bit
added to millions of bits
can cover in love as a blanket

“only love in, only love out.”
It takes so little to try it
and keep on…love as a radical act

of resistance
of resilience
of resolution
of revolution
of resurrection

Margaret Dubay Mikus
(c) 2017

From my poetic journal.
Published in Journal of Modern Poetry, vol. 21, “Dear Mr. President,” 2018

Read to the End–newly rediscovered poem

Forty-seven years ago May 25 fell on a Saturday (Memorial weekend) and Stephen and I got married at Queen of Peace Church. It was 3 weeks after my graduation from the University of Michigan and 1 week after his first year law school final exams. We were both 22 years old. We were so glad to be together we held onto each other and grinned through most of the ceremony. Even after this pandemic year, that is still true.

Here is a recently rediscovered poem from 21 years ago. When I read it to Stephen he didn’t remember the incident, but really liked the poem, so here it is.

6/29/00

Read to the End

Where can you be?
they are calling
desperate in their way
to find you

in the middle of negotiation
you walked away
stepped out…to where?
Is that when you called

me and left a message
“Talk to you at home”
two hours ago and
you are not home.

Where can you be
run off, run over
leaped off a bridge
into swift green water?

Wandering lost
down familiar, but faint
Chicago city streets?
Sudden flash of “must get out”

sudden loss of stamina
to keep on such a hard
“responsible” course
you set for yourself

thinking your sacrifice
was for us?
Where could you be—
come home to me—and talk

it through, like we always do.
Take this line I throw out to you
hold fast as I pull
you back to the safety of my arms.

**
And now the rest of the story:
You left for a meeting,
an estimate on hail damage,
and came home smiling after.

No danger, no need for worry
who knew? All that energy
wasted except to realize
once again how I love you.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2000

Recently rediscovered from my poetic journal

Cutting our wedding cake, 1974

Margaret and Stephen, Door County, WI

#poem #anniversary #love #poetry #lovepoetry

Prompted by Blake’s Question

4/5/20

Prompted by Blake’s Question

in this time of mandatory stay at home

For Stephen

We do what we can
to laugh, to love
to live another day.

And when we learn better
hopefully we do better.
How have you and I stayed

together 48+ years—still friends?
Once the question is out there
I’ve been thinking back

to the roller coaster
our constant notes written and left
to find, funny, sometimes thoughtful

sometimes informative, touching base.
The times we might have split
but worked through it

the relentless medical challenges
job stresses, raising two kids
personal growth, changing, not always

in perfect parallel aligned
“and if I fall behind, wait for me.”
But here we are together

almost half a century after that first January
when we sat side by side in the front row
the first day of a college literature class

had our first conversation of countless many.
Here we are still interested
still laughing, watching out for each other

still loving.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2020

From my poetic journal, a reminder that this week (Jan 17, 1972) is celebrating 49 years together. The quote is a reference to a Bruce Springsteen song.

Unexpected Wave, CA Beach, by M D Mikus, Copyright 2013

After the Wave, taken by Stephen Mikus 2013

Tough Cookie–Ethel Polk

8/12/18

Tough Cookie

Last night at dinner,
animated and laughing, she said
her cheeks were swollen and red
with a sinus infection
the time she was supposed to
meet Billie Holiday.
And a guy, possibly a musician,
maybe a manager, in any case,
he had a remedy that involved
smoking something, which she did
and it made her nose run,
but Billie Holiday did not come.

This was after Ethel had fallen earlier
that evening, injuries unknown but stiffening,
after the folk concert to which we all had gone,
after the extra help to get out of the car,
the painful short walk to the table.

After the century of living,
working, remembering, loving, and losing,
picking up after each fall, healing,
continuing to live, to connect,
relishing food, red wine, people, music,
near blind, but the next day
having a guest for brunch.

After the congenial dinner at Shokran
one woman got her standing,
kept her from the broken glass,
two strong men helped her walk out,
carefully, no rush, to the waiting car at the curb,
one woman carried her bag,
one willing woman held the door,
another kind man drove the car.

“Why do so many people help me?”
she said she’d asked
and the answer came back:
“because they love you!”
And she’d replied, “Am I worthy?”
And I would say to that:
We are all worthy
we are all loved.

As you ask, it is answered,
whatever you’ve sent out
returns multiplied.
And…people like to help—
makes us feel less helpless.
Grace is not earned but given
freely to everyone
not just to Ethel at 101.
Who knows the purpose of a day,
every astonishing one
until our allotted time is run?

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2018

And the rest of the story: Ethel Polk ended up in the ER that night where they found she had broken her hip! She had surgery and recovered, continuing to live vibrantly.

Until yesterday, when she died at the hospital from several things, including COVID. She is already dearly missed.

Sun Through Orchid, Copyright 2013 M D Mikus