poetry
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Ode to a feckless phone without mercyIf only I could I’d fling your heftO, device of delight shining brightlyDragging my joy to its lowest depth When your role was to make me happyInstead you’ve rendered my plans bereftPixelated frozen true crime documentaryNo podcasts, no paranormal audiobooks, no nothing left Yet a skein of wool has
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Hold the doorAlways hold the doorEven if the next customer is steps away from the entrance and has to do a little run walk to get to you and you have to kind of weird waitHold the damn doorWith a smile Don’t hog the soda machineThere’s always someone waitingAlwaysThis is not the time for beverage
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At a plain desk cocooned in a sun cherished nookEditing my novel with a hour stolenVoices inside my head captured between pagesI can’t finish, I’m no writer, I’ll never be good enoughIn the citadel of books, all voices are shushedCloistered in hardback silence Cloistered in hardback silenceIn the citadel of books, all voices are shushedI
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I want waffles.Golden buttery windowsDrizzles of maple syrupCheek and jowl, with sausage and eggsA saucy wink from peaches I want waffles.Melted morningsThe day’s sweetness dripsJostling with solitude and paperbacksFlirting with a nap I want wafflesTo savor over timeAnd time to savor overA morning set on a plateCurled on the sofaUnfurling my thoughtsWith my favorite mug
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A workplaceA dining roomStorage facilityAnd private libraryMy shuttle, my shelter, my solaceRide on though your front left is capriciously lowCoffee splashed blazons your dashBumper love taps, mementos of lessons learnedRide on Parking garages be your nemesesCrushed seltzers carpet your floorPhone holders will fail at the less opportune time Ride on Noble chariot Through thick and
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Pink fabric enrobedBlue lines pagesMarked with a rose colored satin ribbon Yellow legal padsErupting with tight cursive arcsOf the characters in her head Brown skinned girl bent over a bookSheltered in her closetEscaping into technicolor worldsTo world building in shades of her own Hope rose from darkness ButLittle girls grow upBig dreams overshadowed, left fallow
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“Then suddenly…it’s over.”Notifications chime again, againInsistent inboxThe weight of constant connectionsDeadlines slipped off the edge ofAnother day “Then suddenly…it’s over.”Chest crush squeeze of parenting parentsWhile tending teenagersOf being everything to everyoneYet never quite enough forAnother day “Then suddenly…it’s over.”Like a magician’s sleight of handThe flash on a coinAn image held in the mind butAlready gone
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Weave me a spellOf titan tresses and heaving bosoms,Of muscle laden bad boys with tender souls Bewitch me for awhileBetwixt misunderstandings ridiculousAnd entanglements easily untied Swaddled in shopworn cliches and shabby tropesEmbrace my tattered mind inside paperback coversEnchant me into happily ever after For a while
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Unraveled my day spills before meIn a long tangled cordMy needle slips down and underUp and throughPulling a loop of sleep Fingers flowRocked by rhythmic clicksThe cat is a crescent moon at my feetAs my needles grow heavy Rows and rows grow across my lapStitching myself togetherThrough the long night
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Bees offer honey far more than stings.Ginger green teaHot and bitingComfort to my raw throatI sip.Warmth pools in my chilled chestMy mug is not as heavy as I feelI’m no bee butI work and serveI hurt and stingI feed and provideI heal to be hurt againIn a tight frenetic circleIn a relentless loop I empty
circular staircase 