I want to - but I
don’t,
because I know it is the loose stone underfoot,
the unexpected car approaching on a curve,
the knife that slips,
the nights he left me sore,
bruised on my thighs
where his hand had been.
Pam
Milne
CHANGE
Across from me, you study
the
warm coffee and cold tea between
us where I waited when I
could have been anywhere else.
"I need my space. I'm not
getting
any younger." I nod agreeably,
my mind sifting this '60's jargon,
looking for signs of anything
relevant to this day- this
place.
30 years of quietly listening to
a leaky faucet you could never
fix and I lacked the tools to help.
You grimace when I
look
directly at you and find
a place to avoid my gaze, the
napkin holder, where I see
my image staring back
solemn
no longer young, but creased
wise beyond the image I hold
of a hopeful girl with firm
thighs dancing at
midnight
in a borrowed blue dress
just to impress you. There's a
mistake in all of us which leads
us here to warm coffee
and
cold tea where you decide that
you are the only one who has
experienced growth and change.
EXPECTING
your head next to
mine
on the pillow
i look at my so-new-to-me-body
taking accepting developing strange shapes
the way you wanted it
[suffering]
to make that ring mean
you're mine
THIS MORNING
It's tough, you
know
living and loving as long as i have
but somehow he makes it easy...
a pleasure, laced through with a sweet,
sweet ache,
that makes everything bearable
and i know that sounds a little naive
and it is the same cliché...
but that is what he means to me
and that is all i feel in his ensconcing arms
and all i yearn for day to day....
but it's tough when things fall apart
and maybe this ache dulls with time
but maybe it is just replaced with
a want for memories
and the same feeling there was
this morning
Brandi
Semler
THE INSTITUTION OF MARRIAGE
Love does not appear to
have been a factor
at its inception, though if children were in mind,
I begin to wonder even
more,
since that adhesive seems to have lost its hold.
The very fact that we call
it an institution
suggests a sort of mental breakdown-
What were we thinking?
A kind of lunacy:
broad brick buildings,
bars on windows, straight-jackets,
the screaming locked
inside,
where no one will hear it.
MARRIAGE
My first marriage was
arraigned by fate and my
first born. I did not mind, what else would I be
doing?
My heart was protected then by my little ones.
Pain can not penetrate baby kiss droppings. He left
me
and our television for a woman who could decorate a
room.
The second time, more was
at stake. My little ones
grew, moving away from me, happy making their own
beds. So now this was my time. For intimate
touches,
shared silences. He left me for a room I decorated and
the
blaring television.
The third time ..... (Enough is enough)
COUNTING BEANS
If I measured your
worth
by the number of touchdowns
I missed this season
while you dusted around me
humming "Calcutta,"
or if I considered
your habit of calling
"Supper Dear!" just when the wax
has turned white on the Ford,
and if I counted
your urgent call to the office
for "green beans and bread
on your way home, Hon"--
just when Gallagher was ripping
my head off and loving it--
or your total
disregard
of his barely concealed impatience
when you breeze by the office
sing-songing, "Good day, Mr. Gallagher!"
the feel of your insistent
lips on mine
and the warmth of your sleeping
face against my chest still
would be the bottom line
for this bean counter.
for eternity
my heart is yours
and yours mine
entwined in the ancient
dance of passion
our souls come to
be as one
never mistrusting
or doubting each other
as we create
our lives and new lives
to go forth
into the world
to someday dance
in passion
and find
what we have found
Matthew
Brady
LOTUS FEET IN THE AMERICAN WAREHOUSE <
His feet: like a
concubine's
Sneakered crescents
A front porch rocker
Heavenward at heel and toe
Each foot lightly placed
A wince for each step
Her shoes: black wood
platforms
One leather band on instep
Two toes curl over front
Heel off the back
White anklets stressed
No give no bounce no mercy
Clacking on concrete
An abacus at day's end
Some power transfers
consequences
Perhaps to the greater love
Her cold feet on his legs for warmth
He draws the pain and abuse into himself
To carry her lighthearted through tomorrows
Down the ramp
Out the doors
They wheel their cart
Frugal and unsteady
His feet her litter
Her shoes toting the miles
HUSBAND
I hear him speak and his
sounds
warm, deep, gentle
soothe me
but, when angry
his voice infuses with despair
like a mother helplessly watching
her child slip away
INCAPACITY
When he lost the power
to
create, procreate,
rejuvenate
their love, it died.
No mechanical device
or platitudinous
advice
could resurrect what once had been.
Quirks, charming in the past,
grew
bothersome. Bodies offended
that earlier embraced.
Grief, once shared, comfort taken from each other
was suffered
now
in solitude.
In time, even memories
lacked
substance,
listlessly draping a shrouded past.
Diane Smith
When i look and see you
there,
I find myself starting to stare.
I try to pull away,
But your eyes have something to say.
The way you stand,
It makes you look as though you're in command.
The way you act so carefree,
It makes me realize there is so much to see.
The way you talk sends chills up my spine,
Then it completely distorts my mind.
And then i know my dream had come true,
Because its not just me now, its me and you.
Karie Rothwell
SAME RIVER TWICE
It left a bitter taste on
my tongue
that I tried to wash down with my own saliva.
But I could not, so
finally I went out for a drink
and he quenched my thirst.
In dissolve is solve and
in dissolution is a solution,
and if in every end is some beginning
then I will step gently
into this river,
the water warm, the stones round and solid
the current urging but not
pulling
and lie down, letting it take me.
Lianna Wright