wicker chairs in the rain
lightning in the sunrise
mist sparkles in our faces
his fingers twisting through my curls
playing in the folds of my ears
tickling my nubby toes
apple red roses tickle my nose is
sneezy but I breathe in deep
those roses he belted in his civic
the door I’ve yet to touch
a glass bottle of sparkling pear soda
fizzes on my lips
bubbles continually inside me
singing to a digitally
remastered cd of old
blue eyes now
green eyes I stare into
leaning feeling wanting
tickling he laughs
even in the cold
I breathe in deep
lingering old spice
from his charcoal jacket
left in his civic
my hands lost in beaded cotton sleeves
or was it the words—I love youspoken through his hands
deep as the raw sky through
the windshield I wish would dissipate
I drive in a direction I hate further
down the road from you
red lights ring on wires
vibrate through silhouette branches
I stop for green and answer
your call through space
metallic lips nine miles apart
buzz tonalities facelessly
invisible lines connect squints
and smiles and shivers and
an inaudible chill of quivering words
with no fire of your breath my ear is left damp
with a shortage of finger reception
electrodes are left disconnected
I contact the driveway sitting
until it so desires
a kiss that misses
hits the cheek
child in a china shop
fingers fondle through
my mind’s eye
lid to the cookie
my feet dangled while
toying on a piano
whose smooth wooden legs
smelled of pledge
keep lips pursed yet
untouched by his
for only cheeks touch
my cheeks prickled by
whiskers two days old
standing to the side
walk hand in
his strides nearest traffic
still and waiting
for gold purified
Song of a Trial
White dress glowing against green sky.
I finger his words in my pocket,
then throw them to the waves.
Walking daintily along the
edge of the sea, tides
rise—the storm has come,
fall—leaving blankets of sea foam and lace.
Crying out to the lightening beams,
lying in the grit, pushed by currents—
a force not recognized 'til its landing.
The salt of tears and waves embrace.
Thunder rolls in a sovereign reply.
settle in Spring.
Summer seeps of simplicity.
Fall is far in view.
My sisters comb the grit from my hair,
dress drying in the bright beams from the sky.
A ripped pocket in my hand,
I sit reflecting before the glassy lake
with sand between my toes.
Now I can see.
Canoes float by and wave.
Vibrant tree leaves tickle my eyes.
Bird hymns, frog odes, children's laughing praises—
I hum along to their song.
This blessed gentle lake, a summer sanctuary.
Grasping for its shimmers,
bare footed, I dive in and dance.I can stand in these waters.
The infamous P really represents
Powdered donuts –
Hostess by the bagful,
Pills – extra strength,
Pads – saving grace
heating Pads and the other –
oh and Petting my Puppy –
a furry stress ball
Actually, forget the Pads
I always wind up on geriatric Aisle 7
staring at diapers –
No miss, they’re over there –
Why are Pads next to marshmallows?
It’s time to upgrade
and I’m not talkin’ cardboard –
That blonde tv bimbo can shut-it
I mumble a hypocritical
swear towards Eve, squat
reaching for non-generic Pills Placed
conveniently on the bottom shelf by Walgreen’s
fool of a manager smiling –
How are you today?
Boy, get out of my face –
I’d swat you with my Purse
if I had the energy
and if I find out my Powdered donuts are on the floor shelf –
I throw down
Pearls, 2 bags Powdered donuts, new issue of People, Peppermint tea, Pink PJ’s and
The baby face cashier
drops the Pearls twice, rattles the Pills,
shakily slips – Have a nice day –
Miss my driveway,
stagger crooked and cramped to the front door,
burrow for keys in my bottomless Pit of a Purse,
sprawl out on the Papasan,
crank up the heating Pad’s rays of glory,
Pop the donuts and
2 Pills – can take 2 more at 10,
click on Lifetime,
and Pet my Puppybriefly envious of her belly scar.