Monday, May 9, 2016

INTERROGATION

What’s in the head
with the library?
More than a corpse.
Words meander
over circuits of breath;
a shade moves
up, then down.
Are you naked?

Stepping out from the shower,
a ghost hitches up its scars.
Talk, damn you!
Once upon a time
our eyes closed
in the silence.

Monday, February 8, 2016

THE SPECIMEN WORLD

A rifle shot comes
from the direction of Main Street,
but the sounding doves outside
the bedroom aren’t startled,
and the noise of traffic
hasn’t stopped.

I should pull the window shade up,
let in the eye-riveting light,
call again for help
from one of the strangers
who moved in.
The darlings always keep busy.

They must be struggling
to make sense of the laundry
hung out to dry on the porch.
I will give the sheets names
for when it gets dark,
and give them a piece of my mind, too,
for their flirty bedevilment.

I’ve always known my husband
couldn’t be trusted.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

POEM OF DEPARTURE

            Let yourself go: mourn in the evening,
            with your curtains pulled open and your lights turned on;
Wail, from dusk to daybreak, straying across your neighbor’s yard.
Go into the hedgerow, safe for a blind bird’s sleep.

Relax!  The moon ladles clouds out of its halo,
and still there is time for your wounds to heal.
            Pray for the starved and cold departed.
            Plead for capable hands,
feeling for reversing the sun’s dementia.         
            Let yourself go; trust the gusting wind
            and the fright outside.