Posts for June 3, 2017

watching
from a closed room
for a decade the blinking
of a soundboard
indicating 
something
coming in and out
hearing others
afraid to speak
myself

i can’t hardly stand
to pass up a yard sale.
it pains me.
something deep down in my soul
tells me to stomp that brake
at the first sign of balloons
fluttering from a mailbox.
i can spot a piece of neon poster board
a half a mile away.
my eye has been well trained

Sat with my kids, my ex-husband, and my love
eating food they cooked–but not me–
under a half moon dancing with Jupiter.
Sixteen great hugs in one day, watching my grandson
go from wonder to frown to full out crying,
fireflies and the blessings of a life lived well.
I have a new standard for happiness.

King Louis’s severed head,
lifted high above the crowd,
dripped blood
that watered the furrows
of France’s fields.

Marie Antoinette stood by,
dishing out slices of cake
to the women
marching on Versailles,
who came
armed with poleaxes and pikes.  

The dauphin,
at ten years old,
languished,
imprisoned in the Temple fortress,
before succumbing
to scrofula.

-Maggie Brewer 

Sons of Joseph awaited a blessing
from grandfather Jacob, lying
on his deathbed.  On the right
stood the eldest anticipating
the greater when Jacob crossed
his hands.  History repeated itself.

My husband’s
smile means so very much
when he doesn’t know 
I’m looking
(c) Edelweiss Meadows-Millstone

The house was white
The sky was blue 
The people were lost
The house was too. 

It remembered how it was 
Not too long ago 
Regal, proud, historically 
Tyranny’s great foe 
But the people who were lost
led it here 
Driven by hate,
consumed by fear. 

It longed for the men of yesteryear. 
It panged for the leaders before 
Before it was lost and closed its doors. 

The house, still white 
That sky’s still blue 
The hope remains 
To itself be true. 

Closing my eyes, all my curls wild in a topknot
still soaking my pillow with green tea and avocado, 
gravity knits me as one with grey sheet fibers
and I know I couldn’t move now if I tried.
Toes don’t quite reach the end of this bed,
but that doesn’t stop calves from extending,
flexing, finally relaxing underneath the weight
of too much comforter in not enough breeze.
Arms wrap themselves -tight- around extra pillows,
the floral ones I bought to make it seem less roomy,
and it’ll probably take many more nights like this
to almost forget that the other side was for you.

no one
ever owns
a cat
my cat
reminded me
after her
morning escape
and reluctant
evening return

Twenty dollars here
Twenty dollars there
Is this what it costs me
To build a career?
It’s enough to make
Someone like Buk
Have to choose
Between his booze and his 
Literature