A cup, a sleeve, a siren song scent, I
pick her up, outbound, spend too much – a tall
extra-hot, double-shot made sufferable
“because we care about our planet”. We
sail on, addicted, believe in her tale,
and culpable, gulp her mythology.
With paper-thin desire, I stare into
green-haloed, star-crowned, green eyes, lips, hair. She
surfs lazy brown, bony, corrugated waves
environmentally aware. We skim
the sky, a flat white winter foams below,
a strawberry frappuccino dawn blooms.
Maybe “Time and tide flow wide” but I fear
this convenient relationship is doomed.
(Posted for Bjorn’s dVerse invitation for Handbook of Forms. We were invited to write a sonnet. Here is the link. Poetry Forms – The sonnet )
I believe in big trees
Douglas firs, maples, white pine
rooted in damp earth, fertile,
abundant deep breathers,
sweepers and cleaners
I believe in one swaddling sky
the only sky above me,
universal, maternal, fragile
Misbegotten, I became a lover of you
and your children, rain and sun.
Through sky and earth I know
my body, spirit, mind live
here and only
You whittled me, made me fit,
gave me space to be,
to crucify and bury worry,
grow hope repeatedly,
a seedling, sapling, fledgling
I look forward to my resurrection
born anew as a tree,
where I exhale for you
and pray this earthly heaven continues
despite our sins and trespasses
I believe in big trees,
earth, sky – and her children
I chose clothes over painting
the living room. When contemplating
renovating the bathroom
the thought of removing the toilet
from its moorings unmoored me
and I bought a leather coat instead. Continue reading
Montreal Botanical Gardens – August 2018
Silky morning breeze
around my neck
Startled by tranquility
I lift my coffee cup,
wrapped in bliss,
*What the heck, Susanne, you say, is syzygy? Sub i for y and the word is pronounced siz-i-jee. In the context of this poem it means “any two related things, either alike or opposite”.
It also means inspiration because as I sat pondering a piece of personal non-fiction I’m struggling to get just right (and write) and nothing worked, I found this word accidentally on Dictionary.com. The other implacable draft dropped away and off I went on this poem. One word changed the morning from self-flagellating defeat to a small victory.
Words never fail to inspire me.
Craft note: Hand written using my newest pen given to me by my eldest daughter on the occasion of my 61st birthday. Super fine tip, smooth action on contact, delightful fantasy figure cap. Wishing you all a year of unicorns and rainbows.
The glasscutter call of a chickadee breaks
open the day with continuous song
while I gulp coffee and serious list-make. Continue reading
Oaken and frozen
You don’t hear his command,
so he delivers a bitter reprimand
and takes you down with a hard smack.
He teaches you a lesson with a whack
to the knee, a stab in your low back. Continue reading
I’ll tell you
that belly swelling
moon silk skin
stretched so thin
a tiny hand waves
at you – you lunatic –
moonlit nirvana under
a blue moon, a wolf
Photo credit: Farmers’ Almanac
Just Jot It January: Fantastic
Warning – mature theme.
his body darkness and shock
therapy his unzipping zipper
the sound of an electric current
the top and bottom buttons of her Continue reading