jerry’s barn
somewhere a shade
between the sun’s yellow
and the grass’s green
lies lichen
holding tight to history
somewhere a shade
between the sun’s yellow
and the grass’s green
lies lichen
holding tight to history
this boat’s name is
dependency.
you were
the one
who built it.
and you were
the wave
beating
against it.
strong and stern-
unforgiving and
non-discerning.
you spent years
lapping it up
little by little.
carrying pieces of sand-
and me-
away.
and then!
you jumped ship
and said
it was because
it felt so nice
to be
needed.
This morning she was in her favorite spot,
perched on the back of the couch,
looking out the front window.
Panting signals the need for a break, from battle.
Her barks tell of all the imminent dangers,
the family has been rescued from already today.
Three horses next door, a slow moving tractor,
birds seeking food, and that bug that taunts,
from the other side of the glass.
We can rest assured, the humans are always safe,
in Dixie’s kingdom.
I bruised my lips with rouge
to push the boundaries of age.
Hands on the bus
discovered me,
I bloomed under a boy’s gaze
when my tights split open
pale thighs. Later I clenched a
heart-shaped locket in my fist
and recalled questing fingers,
a mouth without a home.
Shame and desire shaped
and formed me,
a woman-child
who wanted better
but didn’t know how to ask.
O’Nolia named they guess from the great
Magnolia growing by her mother’s window.
When the pain of her birthing rose and fell
The creamy blooms leaned in for comfort.
They gave mother’s eyes a place to be beyond
The dark room filled with hurt and fear. True
Or not, the name seemed to mark a destiny
That tiny child would live one far day away.
He carried mail in his beat up truck up and
Down each narrow road on his route, did
So for thirty years right out of the army.
Pensioned off, his hands coaxed earth’s bounty.
Three kids grew up in that house, the boys
Raised hell two days till Sunday while the girl
Found herself maidened for life, tied to home
Clerked for REA, went to church, did good.
Tommy loved the promise of blooming things
Bulbs, strawberries, pears or peaches. Dot
Craved rose petals, tulip cups and lily splendor.
Nollie loved it all. So grew a wonderland about them.
Garden clubs came to see varieties rare and precious,
Neighbors took cuttings to try and mostly failed.
Church altars from miles around often graced by
Hydrangea, peony, marigold and zinnia,
One by one we lost them and drive today past
An empty space once the most beautiful spot
Gracing the old Macadam road just two houses
Past the turn off, not far from the stone quarry.
Does the earth miss the berries, blooms and buds?
Is there somewhere deep under the grass memory
Of a wife named for a tree, a man who loved flowers
And sweet Dorothy who spent her life for others?
You had 15 ways last week to mix
messages and manipulate
and I haven’t counted mine,
but I probably did too.
Today I might know what you’re thinking
or what you’d expected to say.
I don’t need more intuition,
but give me time and tarot cards
and I might have my way.
Tomorrow words might chase me,
claw at me line after line,
snap their teeth, break the neck of a title,
gnash rhythms so loud I
can not place my own pulse.
Another week, a year, a decade from now,
I’ll remember. Recite a mercurial blessing:
LexPoMo. Listen. Look. Compose.
Commitment is sacrifice when feelings say, “leave”
Yes…I want that one.
Nerdy, funny
Look like a lil snack?
Bonus!
Like a Lil Debbie
On a low carb day.
(Collaboration with K. Blevins and a Singles Swag meme)
