No. 7
haboob
dust storm
suffocating brown blackout
rolling
through the
waterless desert waste
sucking
vacuuming up
dryness desert dirt
dumping
its contents
on the cityscape
city
coughs chokes
cringes crouches cowards
Hour Seven: What’s Normal?
I normally don’t use the word.
I mean, how could I?
Whose standards, yours or mine?
Whose conventions, society’s or family’s?
Definitions slide off a palm like silken scarves,
the meaning lost in context.
Two years ago, we hugged,
two years later, I peered at you,
searching your eyes,
fearing the demons within.
Once, if you loved too much,
you went to jail.
Now, your hate prison corners you.
And truth your mother taught you
turn lies to the spring winds,
shifting, like the dying fall leaves.
Chameleon, snakeskin shed,
twist of fate, kiss of death,
what do you call it?
It’s the new new, old as time.
What’s normal?
Summer Solstice 2021 (Hour 7)
Summer Solstice 2021
By: LuvMiFreely
(Hour 7)
The grass welcomes me
Standing barefooted
Rooted firmly
A Earthly connection
Eyes closed
Warmth consumes me
The sun beaming
Smiling at the sky because it’s her season
She embraces me
Coloring my skin golden
Welcome back Summer
Made over
Make me over.
Self-confident brings morals and values.
The foundation of strength, togetherness, and love.
You give to others.
Readiness you’ll receive.
From above.
7 normal is as normal does
I have 6 kids.
3 have autism.
3 are “the normals.”
One bangs his hand on the table at mealtime
And he screams
SCREAMS!
He runs around at bedtime
Knocking his head to the wall
Laughing his butt off.
He flaps his hands like he will fly off
Anytime he is excited.
He is a “normal”
Another bites when her toys are taken.
She kicks.
She kicks hard
Anyone who comes near her foot.
Then she laughs
Just as hard.
She is a “normal”
One of them is a cuddle bug.
Cuddling every chance he gets.
Loves being read to.
Loves playing with other kids.
Great student
Popular kid.
He has autism.
He is an “abnormal”
We are all abnormally, normally.
Trying Out
Trying Out
We stood on the front lawn, a thick mass of grass
spread before us like heaven unfurled.
It was that beautiful a day, late summer.
The day I wanted to be a cheerleader.
We started with simple moves, cartwheels, headstands.
Our backs arched, shoulders straight, pelvis tucked back.
The day I wanted to be a cheerleader.
I had obstacles to face: no flexibility (at age twelve)
couldn’t do a cartwheel, let alone a flip or a headstand.
I rode my bike home, lawns tidy squares, bushes clipped,
small trees carrying heavy bunches of orange berries.
The day I wanted to be a cheerleader.
I practiced doing headstands in the living room,
finally steading myself, my toes pointing at the ceiling
until I crashed, bumping head with knee. Hard.
Instantly tired, I fell asleep, unaware that even minor
concussions mean don’t go to sleep right away.
But I was so tired the afternoon I wanted to be a cheerleader.
Prompt Seven: (Used Image for prompt and went off theme for this one)
this house
your front door, blue –
hers, purple –
mine, green –
but they open onto
us, just the same
behind this door, you care for
a newborn (tears from lack of
sleep – yours, not the child’s)
behind that door, she cares for
a grandmother (spotted hands
crinkling into smooth ones)
behind another other door, i care for
my best friend (multiple myeloma
filling his marrow)
larcrimal fluids spilling forth,
just the same
erythrocytes flowing through
us, just the same
hematopoietic cells filling
us, just the same
poetry elevates and renews us,
just the same
…common denominators
(Cristy Watson, 2021 – I used the image for this prompt)
The Night Is for Sleeping
The night is for sleeping.
All the world is at peace
but I channel surf till my fingers burn
and my head swims with images
that are not my own.
I close my heavy lids,
but my mind speaks nonstop –
buzzing like an angry saw – back and forth –
filtering my time to dream and rejuvenate
with dread and exhaustion.
I walk to the window and listen to the darkness.
Everything is silent and safe out there.
But in here, I succumb to noisy ghost thoughts
that cause me to curl into a ball and pray
for sleep to come. My leg twitches and I think:
“I’m falling asleep,” but then my eyes widen
like tulip bulbs bursting forth.
But somehow, just when I have given up all hope,
I stop hearing or seeing or thinking.
Build Back Normal
Build Back Normal
Can’t wait to get back to Normal.
How most people did things
in the Before Times,
the way we dressed, behaved, interacted.
Old normality wasn’t Normal.
Perhaps it’s too late for a Better Normal.
Already roaring back to the normal of
mass shootings,
wealth and justice inequality,
scruffy appearance,
loud, rude, and thoughtless behavior.
Ignorant and proud of it.
Aspire to a New and Better Normal.
Caring for and about
ourselves and others,
treating people with
kindness and consideration.
Valuing our history and
striving to learn.