Poems

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

Poems

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 “Blowing up the Microwave”

Poems

Dear Winter,

You hold the prints of my terrier dog Socks, the dog of my son’s childhood who died after the ice storm of 2007. You held her prints for a week after she was gone. I still remember walking by them when I went around the house. They were in the dark place where the sun doesn’t reach beneath the southern edge of the carport. You didn’t take her, but I will always remember when she left because of that path you kept after she was gone. You are a season for imprints. Continue reading “Dear Winter,”