I found this wooden box in a yard sale. It is perfect for secrets. You can put one in and leave it for someone else to discover. You can take one out and read someone else’s secret. You can put their secret back or you can carry it with you into the world. Continue reading
Monthly Archives: March 2012
Story Old as Time
Lancelot
The apple trees are pregnant with misted fruit,
dangling like the locket holding your hair,
which I keep in memory of that pursuit,
lost in a love, without I cannot bear.
I have walked across the fields to find you.
I have shuttered my heart to the world’s gaze,
made ready the clasp for you to undo,
made still my heart that is yearning to blaze.
Where are those who still demand this is wrong?
Who see only betrayal, not love’s proof?
I contain operas, not just one song.
Love does not abide by a single truth.
Yes, I am joined to him and know my vows,
and I will love you as long as flesh allows.
Guenevere
–Shaun Perkins
Shopping
In the IGA refrigerated
to a degree for maintaining ice cream,
she wheels the chrome cart down the produce aisle,
where the vegetables are threatening
to freeze and bananas seem the sole safe fruit, Continue reading
Skimming Clouds
What is known
Is all inside, beneath the buttons,
Below the bone,
To the heart of the human,
Above the clouds Continue reading
Blowing up the Microwave
She didn’t want the damn thing. She TOLD Jack
and Leigh, I got no use for that damn thing.
They set it up on the table she kept
potted plants and grocery sacks on, and she
ignored it for two weeks before warming
up some dinner rolls. She pushed start; her heart
fluttered at the sound of the glass cracking.
It’s that twisty-tie, Jack said on the phone.
Continue reading
Her Closet
The closet is musty with cold mildew.
The cut-rate carpenter glued sheets of plywood
to the concrete block foundation with no
penny of thought for insulation or worse.
Glue hardens instantly in Oklahoma wind
and the gaps appear, moisture dripping in.
Carpet breeds green blobs, cotton dresses
filling with the thick damp odor of acorns. Continue reading
In Spring, Do This
The rain has fallen all night. And today it is spring. Today begins that season, “when the world is mudluscious” and “the goat-footed balloonman whistles far and wee.” It is spring “when my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils.” Well…..as soon as the flood is over, I’ll do that dancing anyway.
Before the Flood
In the kitchen, I look through the window
On the east wall and see the sun
Hazy behind the new curtain of honeysuckle
On the barbed wire fence
And through the window
On the west wall, the grey sky
And the rain creasing brown oak leaves
In the ditch where the dandelions
Are sprouting. But there is no divide Continue reading
T-Ball
The boys running the bases like rabbits
scurry to far-off places, not moving
toward targets—just moving. Montie Jean
recalls the ballgames she played as a child
in the dusty pasture where milo died
early. She can’t believe she was ever
as small as these kids. One sits on the bench
crying. Another has smeared snot and dirt
up the side of his face and into his hair. Continue reading
Dance With Me in Ireland
In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I was thinking of Ireland this morning. The country has a wonderful blog called Poetry Ireland that celebrates and promotes poetry across the country. Currently, on the main page a literary festival held in Dublin Castle is being advertised. Oh wouldn’t I love to go to that? With my name, I could fit right in. Continue reading
