24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
It’s fun to imagine having sequins for my eyes, but
Not without purple glitter in my hair,
Like a demented puppeteer.
I’m considering holographic shoes with roller blades, and
Some jellybeans for my shades,
Sort of colorful cascades
Of rainbow
Monsters.
Traveling across the Yolo causeway,
I’ve had cool wind in my hair.
But have never given colitas a care.
I’ve stood in a doorway
And glanced over the bay.
I’ve heard a mission bell
And become drunk off Zinfandel.
I’ve been to a California motel
And heard an echo from a seashell.
It was such a lovely place
With a comforting embrace.
Gray stillness enveloped the sky
Everything calmed; halted
Even the wind stopped breathing
Playing in the backyard with clothespins
Clipped them to the end of my fingers
Wondered what they’d feel like on the tip of my tongue
So I did.
It hurt.
That was the first time I heard a tornado siren
Screeching
Wailing
Warning
Mom flung upon the screen door
Yelling at me to get inside!
Frozen
Standing
Crying
Paralyzed with indecision
With a clothespin pinching my tongue.
Online teaching created strange experiences
Our fears covered in masks, surgical and virtual facades
Insecurities buried in bottles of hand sanitizer
Zoom meetings, Brady Bunch style,
Lit up our names like little fireflies
I would like most to be
Static electricity
To add spark to life
Simple steps create
Tiny jolts
With each shock,
Laughter grows and stops
And starts again
With each new spark
Hair stands on end.
Cobalt blue whisps through the clouds
Napthol crimson swirls through the breeze
The nectar of purple skyflower whispers to the morning guests
Azure gold and black bees flitter from bloom to bloom
Red-Lored parrots snack on Sugar Hackberry fruits
Ruby-throated hummingbirds dart and dash among the hibiscus blossoms
Little Yellow butterfly takes flight among the gardenia bushes
A gentle rain bathes the sparrows
Sister Red and Brother Bear, please slow down.
You’re too fast for me.
Quiet, child, says Sister Red. We have much to do
Before winter comes.
The leaves are changing. The trees are bare.
Soon the sunlight won’t even care.
Sister Red and Brother, please slow down. I can’t keep up.
Hurry along, says Brother Bear. We have much to do
Before winter comes.
The berries are gone. The creek has dried.
We have miles to go to reach wayside.
Sister Red and Brother Bear, please slow down. I can’t see you.
The leaves changed, and the creek has dried.
Winter has come, and the sunlight doesn’t even care.
Sister Red and Brother Bear, don’t slow down.
I’ll meet you there.
It took years for me to know that you were not real.
Instead of brimstone and fire, you were made of light shining through the top of my curtains and my imagination.
Every night before I closed my eyes, you peered down on me.
Every night, I prayed that God would make me good.
Every day, I knew that you made me bad;
No Sunday School lesson or offerings to the white plastic miniature chapel would absolve my sin.
Then I learned about light and dark and shadows.
I learned about grace and salvation and forgiveness.
It took years for me to learn that you are not real.
Back in the day
Of babysitting and teen lines and friendship pins
I slept my mornings away
Partied my nights with a variety of sins
No responsibility
No cares in my teenage life of sensibility
Nobody told me about babies and puppies
Babysitting, Big Bucks/No Whammies, and brownies
Living the life on an easy chair
Baby sleeps soundly,
Assaulted into reality with puppy poop like a nightmare
Brownie fights stomach profoundly
Chocolate loses; brownie throw-up everywhere
Baby wakes with an unhappy dance
Because he just pooped his pants
Nobody told me about babies and puppies
As I begin to clean the baby up,
I hear a terrifying slurping noise.
The puppy is licking my brownie throw-up.
I throw up again with unflattering poise.
Mom walks in to witness this gallant moment,
I ask, “Are you ready to hear my dog-poop-brownie-throw-up story?”
Nobody told me about babies and puppies.