White Knuckles
Words and connections
Ground us
As we knuckle tight
Through the morass
Discovering small victories
Like pandemic pot roast
And dispatches from home
Words and connections
Ground us
As we knuckle tight
Through the morass
Discovering small victories
Like pandemic pot roast
And dispatches from home
Standing on the edge of the water,
Listening to the frogs calling out to one another,
Feeling those same ghosts,
Counting down from ten,
“You look like a goddess.”
require three pickings
every day but taste so green
you thank
the sun god on your neck.
I walk down the street with you at night in my head
We’ve been roaming the neighborhood for hours
bug bitten, not tired
I’ve been looking you in the eye
which is reheating my middle
some funny way
You can see it on my face
lightly salted from hours in the sun
older yet younger with every passing step
Isn’t it funny how we just waltzed through there at the end?
We just said ah
I’ve had enough,
and found ourselves at home again
Last night a hoot owl sat outside my window
Planted himself dead center in the branches of the dying oak
Said he was there to pave the way for the preacher
My grandfather, the preacher, dearly departed
A tiny man bursting at the seams with fire and brimstone
Three piece suit, tie, hat, wrist watch, a daily lifetime ritual
Grandfather Jett, not grandpa, pawpaw or grandpap
Referred to as ‘Brother’ or ‘Preacher’ by most
My grandmother, lovingly called ‘Sister Jett’,
My father attended church eight times a week
Till, at 15, he graduated and caught a bus up north
Had enough of invocations, scriptures, benedictions
Grandfather quietly arrived at the foot of my bed
Grandmother stepped in the room shortly after
They held hands decked out in their Sunday best
He quoted a couple bible verses, sang a bit
She reminded me to stay on a righteous path
Then they took flight beside that old hoot owl
My dad never showed
Guess he elected to sit that sermon out too.
Sunlight’s glow and the sudden wind gust
do not slow me down
tho I am blinded as I walk.
Cardinals fight more than forage
on the muddy creek bank. The wind whistles,
following the lay of the land,
without leaving tracks as I do.
Memory of a Covid-19 death makes me frown.
I will call my friend, just to talk,
and then I will place words on a page
to stand tall like thistles,
protected by needles, at home on arid land.
The words I write survive drought and heavy dew
and bloom like purple weeds come August.
that year we
all held towels
over our heads looked
neither
right nor left
let the hydrangaes go
unnoticed,
unkempt (they knew
how to carry on – we
couldn’t) prayed
for our babies that
they might sleep
a full night without waking
in a fit just
because,
because they
are accustomed to seen things.
PGBK, 11:45, sleeve–
randomness written here and
there on my desk (although I am
a typical perfectionist who loves
organization) causes any other
person but me to scratch her head,
and I chuckle at my models.
Mom used to (and still does)
complain to Dad about the need
to organize his garage. His reply
boasted knowing in absolution
where anything was (is) located if
he needed(s) it.
She scoffed(s).
He grinned(s) like the Cheshire.
One’s disorder is another’s order.
A modulus–
(“mod,” the Latin root for “manner; kind”)
a quantity (organization style) by which
two given quantities (two different styles) can be
divided (managed) to yield
the same remainders (absolute retrieval)
OR
organization = |Mom| or |-Dad|.
Bottom line…
perfectionism and/or Post-Its that is me and
Mom and Dad
all arrive at the same answer–
I love ’em.
I have no one here for me
I’m a nice person
And easy to see
I loved to cook
But now its gone stale
Sometimes it rains
Sometimes it hails
I laugh a lot
And see things funny
Don’t care for slapstick
Don’t have much money
Cannot do housework
Don’t like it sunny
I like to putter
And I do it plenty
I like a good read
Watching birds take a bath
Seeing flowers in bloom
Not think about past
But sometimes I would
Like a hug from a man
Not a ‘just friends’ kind
But one with a plan
A romp in the hay
A toss in the sheets
That would be lovely
And so very sweet
