The Poetry Marathon

his morning

my husband’s having an awful time peeling

those three boiled eggs he has every morning

planning it just right so they are still warm

when the coffee pot perks his dark roast

single cup of Joe a splash of light cream

ESPN will report last night’s sports updates

so essential in his male world allowing

predictable communication with other men

people he interacts with daily

should this routine be disturbed

eggs overdone coffee grounds explode

all will be lost with no hope of redemption

while sitting by my side of the bed

before six a.m. he will deliver that day’s eulogy

certain he is doomed

dear me

dear patience

I apologize for not writing sooner

though I have little time for you

dear misunderstanding

I haven’t heard from you lately

you’ve probably forgotten all about me

dear hope

I am not applying for that job

because I will never get it

dear death

I doubt you will ever show up

it appears your attentions are elsewhere

heartbreakers

oh … the list is too long

those heartbreakers

in the beginning

my mothers

the first one who left

the second one who lied

assisted by those fathers

the first one invisible

the second one long gone

next came deceased pets

roadkill kitten

rigor mortis hamster

then young boys who just touched

true loves who forgot

only sister died young

James Dean turned out gay

my children grew up

husband moved out

my lover abused

some friends just betrayed

my body lost parts

now I’m waiting for more

Yellow

I never think of yellow anymore

It seems to be leaving my life

Along with singing in the car

And sparkly toenail polish

Wearing clothes to cover me

Without any thought of pretty

My shoes are flush with the floor

Not flattering but sure footed

I do not notice if I’m noticed

Only wanting to get things done

Returning home to have the door

Close tightly behind me

Not missing chocolate ice cream

Each day I eat the same foods

Only needing to be alive

At some reasonable size

Tomorrow I will let you know

What I care about but

Today I am finished caring

The list is very short

It all comes down to this

Nobody moves nobody gets hurt

Predictable and simple

And I don’t miss yellow anymore

Escaped blueberry dilemma

A blueberry rolled across the kitchen floor

But I am too tired to get it

It looks like a good one

Large round juicy and sweet

I have the whip cream here

In my right hand ready to smother

These captured berries in this glass bowl

I pause wondering if I will get

That fat berry across the room

Not wanting it to go to waste

Exhausted I lean against the

Formica counter hoping to

Be rescued by a decisive thought

Sexton’s Register

The old ledger, corners frayed,

bides time until ground thaws

when steel-toed boots again kick

shiny broad shovels, scraping stones.

Passed soldiers rest decades

beneath grey shadowed granite,

brothers and lovers and children,

frozen, waiting for company.

This green spring morning welcomes

fractured hearts for their goodbyes,

folded Stars and Stripes, corners true,

as tendered gift must be enough.

Sorrow gathers, words retreat, fertile

moist earth, tossed to a son,

knocks on coffin’s door,

as distant bugle keens farewell.

Pages are turned to find a place in line.

Black ink scribes his last poem.

Worn cover closes, paper settles

To hold the boy and weep.

love poem

i have no poems for you

after all you had written me

still grateful you left my heart

now desperate to think of love

i will give you these five lines

Without her

He humors them

And takes the pill

To keep them quiet

To make them still

When they leave

He’ll have a nip

He keeps it hidden

So they won’t quip

It’s not so bad

To live this way

They love and fuss

Just on Sunday

When she was there

He had his pal

There sits the chair

Of his old gal

He never thought

That she’d go first

He shakes it off

This thought, the worst

Alone at home

He pops a beer

The TV’s on

His cat is near

The game begins

He shuts his eyes

And sees her face

In time he cries

taking care of mother

it’s not always sad you know

it’s not always gloom

just look at all the flowers

and ponder the pearl moon

the oceans speak of flashes

their colors out of view

the beetle bugs and fireflies

they know just what to do

sometimes it seems so crazy

this world that comes from man

but if you take a few steps back

you’ll see a bigger plan

all seasons come and always leave

the plants know when to grow

the rain and sun will do their work

the streams and rivers flow

perhaps we’ll be forgotten

after all the mess we’ve made

but nature knows to clean her house

with all her gifts handmade

if we want to stay around this place

it’s time we showed some sense

by taking care of mother earth

and come to her defense

you matter in this struggle

don’t turn the other cheek

speak up for what’s important

or no doubt our future’s bleak

shopping cart family

the shopping cart family wheels by each day

an assortment of children, most fitting in the cart

they have no car, walking to the grocery store

faded mismatched clothes and unkempt hair

he is always with her, unlike most couples

where food shopping is woman’s work

they have food stamps with little extra

no surprises for the kids at the checkout

beer for him coming from bottle money collected

they pay no rent, car insurance, medical bills

working for cash when they can get it

masters at transportation in order to survive

years later their children come to my yard sale

all grown up having moved away

eager to say Hello and reminisce

without shame they laugh about the cart

having done nothing to help back then

I find myself so proud of them, hiding my guilt