Overheard at brunch
I don’t like to wait
for anything
if I don’t have to.
not a boast
but a moment of candor
free of bluff or bravado
a quiet revelation within
the safe circle of breaking
bread and morning coffee
I don’t like to wait
for anything
if I don’t have to.
not a boast
but a moment of candor
free of bluff or bravado
a quiet revelation within
the safe circle of breaking
bread and morning coffee
They take turns,
relays of grubs and worms.
Three upturned mouths,
urgent in their need.
The parents must be exhausted,
so little time between feedings.
A constant chore,
answering the cacophony of chirps.
But today they do not fly far.
The rain has brought forth enough food
to feed the entire brood.
the storm it’s breathing
as dew drops sucked
from patient trees
make their journey
upwards meeting
marveled queasy cotton
the oak knows its origins
and why the storm needs
these nutrients. he’ll wait,
gentle, quiet, forgiving
as the storm burns herself
out with nowhere left to go
One day I’ll be a name,
A scribble of a signature,
An old black and white picture,
A whisper.
You’ll remember me, faintly.
It’s strange how a person can become nothing.
Their finger prints fade and they no longer linger.
Into the unknown they go,
But I do not fear the unknown. Like the ones who have went before me, I will become it.
I welcome what comes next.
Watch as I become oblivion.
We pray the good times roll and what’s dead stays buried.
Mothballs, cake, and bitters in the cabinet,
mudstains on the carpet telltale under the table.
We’re a day ahead of schedule but well-behind on laundry,
can’t tell clean from dirty half the time.
Self-care comes second when she’s on the table,
think I’m remembering what it’s like to forget.
A close eye to detail, the dental hygienist
leans over me, hands in my mouth,
attending, probing. This intimacy
flashes to monkeys grooming, combing
picking out fleas. What to do with the tongue,
that most instinctive of instruments?
I will it to stay out of the way
but it shames me by nudging around
touching whatever’s near. Our faces inches
apart, enlarged pores on her nose, black
hair up her nostrils. I can smell her
cinnamon mouthwash.
Sixth House on Right
Two stories, started life rather plain,
Some prosperity for this Florence man
Led him to make a grand statement.
Victorian lady the house turned out to be.
The assumed grandeur flustered Mamaw,
Seemed to be out of line with plain, quiet
Hardworking folk. Yet her father prospered,
bottled spirits, won at cards, rode a fine horse,
Winked at the ladies, made them blush.
In her day Ida was a looker like her mother.
Where she got her farm bound notions
Seemed put on, forced, one or the other.
Her kitchen and side patio served as
A place to treat neighbors’ kids. Child
Love, that could have been her name.
Adopted an orphan grandchild. Saved him.
All along the road, she and Pa reigned
Uncrowned, no courtseys, but folks knew
Somehow, an aura perhaps, just made it so.
He preached funerals, wore black, played
Croquet, invited the church. She never knew
What number for Sunday dinner might show.
She mixed pans, skillets and pitchers full,
Served it out, like manna, food seemed to grow.
Sounds a life serene, full of blessing, not woe.
Just what they let you see, that’s the show.
Bury more children than you raise, heart gives
Out too soon, her man buried in his black.
Behind the windows she shed her tears
As life moved on in unmarked days. Fancy
Doors, floors, fireplace or chandeliers
Did not stop the pain or fill the years.
Is this what she knew about Pa’s big notions
That kept her humble, kind and giving?
Fate in the end will always tell the tale.
Pride shall not defeat a windborn gale.
Do you see me how I see you?
Is there color missing from your portrait of me too?
You know, when we met, the world was colored oh so different.
I was a shade of blue who didn’t know why
and you were the shade of yellow who didn’t know how
but I swear when we mixed we made our grass greener than any other side had ever been
I painted the sky and you put the sun in it until we realized a sky could be any color we wanted.
I hear you are orange now,
vibrant as can be,
and me ?
I’m still blue
as can be
but I’m learning to lighten up.
