Late Afternoon
Envelope left unsealed, letters slip out amongst
rose petals strewn on cherry wood writing desk.
banker’s green glass shade says pull gold chain after
setting sun prisms refracted light
broken into pieces of articulated
silence embedded in a gilded frame above.
full sail on emerald blue sea cresting
foam washes stars of rusted sky
beneath rudder guided without compass
what’s the point if the point is broken
and bells toll into the wind warning
without her soft hand holding my dream
upside down pineapple cake crumbs left
not long ago when the guests departed
dust sparkling in beam of sudden stillness
heavy is the afternoon, piano lesson lingers
some distant shore waving feathered pampas grass
further inland, untilled fields remember sugar cane crops
two years now, after all is cut and burned
smoky hints, perfume linger beside unread writings
all, alone in the room.
Waiting to Go Away
Leaning on heart’s gate staring at a
Solar eclipse that blackens out my view
So that I might never see you
Crawling into my heart again.
Green grass beaten down with traffic
Cannot grow no matter how much
Love the rain gathers round the roots.
Still I wait, guarding this wrought iron
Entrance to a white slatted house
Crumbling with age lines reflected in
My eyes, weary from the painful
Busyness of stillness.
Gumbo, late
Dried shrimp drift along surface of gumbo
Simmering above low flame where reluctantly
Aromatic steam traces up
Into my clogged nose, opening
Passages, reminding me when
Mother sliced onions with sharp knives.
Clenched arthritic fingers struggled,
Chopping white squares, diced so we did
Not notice. But I did. Tears long gone
When father, late, came home mad. Sun
Downing, orange ball behind purple clouds,
Rain coming soon sometime tonight.
She, anticipating, cracks crabs,
Careful to remove broken chips,
Lumps of meat plopping into brown
Rued water with cayenne pepper.
Later, our father sips spoonful,
Hot with fillet sprinkled on top.
She talked, we listened, he ate.
The Refrigerator
Opening the refrigerator door, light mesmerizes me.
Out of the whiteness comes security found in indecision.
Somehow, amongst the milk gallon, cheese wrapped
Individually, tapioca pudding in 4 ounce cartons,
Sliced ham in a plastic ice cream carton serving
Double time now . . . well, there are just so many
Choices. It’s not food I want. Yet, staring into the light
I keep waiting for something to come out that will
Give me something I don’t already have. I never could
Practice being satisfied. That’s why I’m looking for something
More in the refrigerator and on its door. For the moment
Slumped backed, white t-shirt tucked into blue pajama bottoms,
I’m transfixed, my brain motor out of gear, humming in neutral,
Waiting for my hand to grab something, or close the door, and
Go back to the TV, where, in another light, I become something else.
Sane, Again
Magnolia buds bleed red beads before
Becoming white blossoms bursting
At the end of green stems swaying softly
Sweeping away traces of my dissipating insanity.
