C was an old woman
in her 90s / in the 90s
and they don’t make them
like her anymore.
Imagine what she saw–
she built her house
from logs they’d sawed.
County took some land,
and finally concrete road.
Then the internet.
Anachronism.
I think sometimes
what would she think–
30 years into the future.
Everybody put on a mask
Hide your face mouth nose
No one can see
How you really feel
We tried to protect ourselves
Hide from a deadly virus
Hide means to hide out
Cover up, conceal
Let nothing find me
You thought it was the mask
Before that it was the talking slab
Mine alone, my world
I me mine, you are
Uninvited
Beyond the mask
There are eyeglass windows
Places where I see you
You see me
A passing glance, an acquaintance
A nod of understanding
Recognition that we have met
Across the human chasm
We are here, together
I knew on our first date,
that you were my person
I was sure that you were the one
that I would marry and spend my life with
We did get married and many years later,
you are still my person
you stand beside me
as we navigate this crazy life
After twenty-nine years,
I am very grateful for my person
and I consider myself blessed
to be able to walk through life with you
near the setting sun,
orange slowly burns away
above, a dark grey threatens,
but it hasn’t rained (yet)
i still love you, i think,
but just as the colors try to join
what’s separate must stay
separate—-what’s alone
will stay alone
My body knows the way there,
winding verdant pastures,
a blue mirage of distant sea,
a moving hawk’s shadow above the world
and down mountain,
a fingertip brush of the earth’s surface,
a cradle of ferns, a stand of trees,
it knows the soft curves of the land like its own,
it knows the valleys worn with winds, ravaged by rain
and sun, it knows.
I know the way to return
to be mended.
Sickness stalks the house
your mystery whelps
whipping down your back
Fever of three alarm
fires the sheets wrung with
sweat and anvil head
Ongoing into alert of
tornado within and you
without the benefit
of doubt. Colors
never seen in sun sink
and one never sick,
tipped over
Possibilities
in this new age seem
stark as any plague
for the long haul
Lines upon lines of messy scrawl,
barely decipherable by the mind that
created them to begin with,
stare back from once blank pages,
while I stare back with a memory
just as blank as the paper before me
used to be.
I could trace every letter written,
one by one,
but still my mind refuses to believe
the words we wrote together.
A false autobiography fades away,
its pages and carefully written lines
blurred out, partially erased by tears
from eyes that can no longer see
anything but the present.
after an hour of chiropractic asmr
sedating sound, my fingers try
& find cervical spine at the crux
of C2 and C3, pressing pain for pleasure.
with sound i soothe, my strength
a salve, correcting my crane of living.
Melancholy day
Eyes half lit slits
A plaintiff sun forces light on a ruddy transplant
donning a half-cocked beret
bent over a journal
at a small table
in the corner by the window
A wink accompanies his tilted pinball smile
I pretend not to notice
My husband would not approve
Imagination conjures a clandestine lunch
Aperitifs, delicious wine, French Bread & Camembert lovers
Time to steal a time away from real
A novel conversation
A chance to practice my French with an expatrie
Momentarily mon francais parle et mes visions de Paris project a
View Master clicking vintage reels of the City of Light
I slowly reapply my lipstick
Chanel
and tuck the mirrored case into my satin lined velvet bag
I stand to leave ~ my floor length cashmere coat holds me steady
bidding this fantasy
Adieu,
Bonjour,
Au Revoir,
Hiding my heart behind red lips
my eyes lie under cover
Jacque O. shades
