I’ve been bitten, blood
stolen by vampires
of the insect kingdom. Red bumps like pox
pepper my legs in itchy pointillism.
I circle the bites with a delicate nail, scratching without slicing
skin.
Bug bites are the bane
of summer life, the duty
leveed by Mother
Nature to frolic in a muddy
creek with good music
and better friends,
a price I’d happily pay again.
After a martini I imagine
the smooth salted enamel
wonder if enzymes do harm
but a voice within says savor
that last cocktail olive, bulged
with sleek garlic, white tip peeks
from the green tunnel, slips
away into briny bliss, floating
in its sea jar.
Oh, gorged green olive sailing
across the salty sea to America, free
to roll on tongues that will never
see the bleached hills of your birth
or
the gnarled fingers that plucked
you from thready, peeling branches
thinned by the Greek sun, yet
bursting with green globes
to bathe my waiting mouth
parched from a shriveled life; I quiver
like ancient olive roots there, thirsting,
here, a new season, under my blazing,
Kentucky bluegrass sky.
On rocky Star Island
off the coast of Portsmouth,
New Hampshire Adirondack chairs
are everywhere–
their slanted backs point
you in the right direction,
be it clouds, water, people
Iris, or peony.
I like to look out at the green
waves hitting the breakwater
from the only Adirondack chair
that has been painted
a pale blue feather color–a color
found on a blue jay.
Today there is a yellow number 2
pencil on the right arm of the chair,
the lead has been broken.
I sit in the chair and become
a still-life for someone to paint.
Do you know whose pencil this is?
Your smell lingered in the air this morning
It was bittersweet,
It reminded me of him
And your colors are outstanding
Your temperatures are perfect
I love everything about you
Except that summer has to end,
To have you
Pick up something that is one color—any color—-stare at it a while, and try to remember the first time you saw it; maybe fell in love with it; fought for it at the kindergarten craft table; forced open a Crayon box to make sure it was really in there; found it influencing a decision about clothing, make-up or home decor; gravitated to it while making a design; found it completing an idea; startled by getting it as a gift; amazed that it expressed an emotion; noticed it influenced the mood of an event; or perhaps you saw this color in a painting that showed it off at its height, as I did.
Lapis Lazuli
the darkness
hugged me
(us)
& then
it faded
into the blue
of an infant
& the cream
of an egg yolk
The first time my hands
Touch the steering wheel, I give
It over to god
So I can say it’s not
My responsibility
For each kid I kill
The lost reflection
Of child-me at this church in
Puddles, hit and run
When mama turned up
Music on the highway
Until we both screamed
Now I know every
Roadside cross is a mirage
Of faith, illusion
Now I’m scared of cars
And afterlifes and child-me
Headed wherever
