Moonrise
Twilight waves crash upon painted shores.
A burning sun evaporates
in wispy streams as gray as the sheep
leaping over slumber-hewn fences
under the galaxy’s starry-eyed glow,
basking in a sea of moonlit fancies
until the break of dawn.
I’ve been sitting in the quiet of it for a while now
There’s this funny sort of silence
That follows the click of a door
catching its lock
A small gasp from a hollowed out room waiting for its new tenant
It’s not hard, living on this side of the door
Sometimes it’s worse
You do a lot more than knock
Or just sit trying the knob
Remembering how it felt to turn under your palm
It’s your house, and the door is merely a suggestion, right?
I don’t mind this quiet any
The flock of opinions always settled in the scenery
Has turned in for the night
So it’s just me now
With this door
Enemy, lover, gut-puncher, friend
The joke is I’ve always been married
to someone, or something
This is as close to settled as it gets, I’m afraid
Stood with my back pressed into the wood
Asking to be kept in
and to stay out
Maybe that’s why that click in the door
It always sounds like,
“good luck”
Another day spent wretched and febrile,
There’s something about
How the sun
Gleams off the dash
During that golden hour
When we’re alone
In the car
And that song
Hits just right
It’s like how
You slip your hand
Under the slit of my dress
Openign a lost love letter
As we hit
The next state line
You give me that grin
And we’re gone
Smoky campfires
melty Smores
mint flavored ice tea
scary ghost tales
Pink cotton candy
ice cream cone trucks
smooth porch swing gliding
belting camp songs
Sun bathing for tan
in a daring bikini
fun zoo visits
car drive-in movies
Roller coaster scares
square dancing in park
the 4th fireworks drama
late moonlight swims
On blanket star gazing
constellations to see
night owls to hear
tent camping at night
Soft after-tent mornings
wake to glistening dew
song birds auditioning
soft sun starts peaking
Summers of yore
pleasures so many
still wanting more
-Sue Neufarth Howard
When the day is done,
I count my blessing one by one.
Comfortable bed.
Roof over my head.
Money in the bank.
Gas in the tank.
Food on the shelf,
For my animals and my self.
Three friends I adore…some days even more.
And a brand new vibrator waiting in the drawer.
I am one lucky broad.
it was an accidental call
that forced him
through a conversation
that went on too long
both of us trying
to reach the end of it
the best thing
it did
was remind me
that I wasn’t part
of his life once
just some illusion
that guilt pushed
both of us to do
because a father
is supposed to love
his son
a strang relief
came
with that goodbye
and the lie we
always told one another
“I’ll talk to you later”
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Miah Cerrillo, 11, told U.S. lawmakers how she tried
to save her own life after the gunman shot a friend next to
her, saying, “I got the blood and put it all over me.”
Hiding under shaky plywood desks
No bomb would dare disintegrate
More worried about Maxie Jenkins
Staring up our dresses than the Russians
Agonizing our mothers’ anger for smudging
The bleached panties with the dirty floor
Fearful the chewed gum under the desks
Would filter into our curled hair
The only blood
A skinned knee at recess
