hour fifteen
heartbeat
the blood pressure
very faint
dropping
with every degree
more
from the
heatwave
July
afternoon
Detachment #12
A glimpse of the moon
Bobbing up and down, gleaming
Staring at the lake.
In all its glory
Lustrous, serene, unconcerned.
Commotion below.
Panic strikes again
canopies topple over
Kids trapped underneath.
Johnny’s Reef
Johnny’s Reef
Frannie Z
It’s where City Island
meets the Sound.
Since 1950,
in a grand though illicit tradition,
after gobbling fresh fish and
fries,
people salute the seagulls
with not-quite empty
paper dishes.
Some make bets
on how long
It will take.
Some wager
on how many.
But those who claim a real sporting instinct,
also bet
On whether they’ll gulp the slaw.
The cats will clean up the rest.
Haikus #11 and #12
I could’ve sworn low
or higher, I saw a man’s
face in the fire.
To act is to shed
upon others the words that
creep along your cracks.
Yellow #19
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
hour fourteen
abandoned home
through its ruins
morning glory
For My Riska (1990 – 1998) – Poem 18/24
You never won any titles, but you irrevocably won my heart.
You ruled your Canine peers like a Queen-
Your authority was absolute and uncontested,
Your doggy bark-talk was soft but firm…
Your deeply seated unwavering maternal instinct
Ensured the safety of your babies with utter confidence…
“Siegerin”, “Grand Victrix” or “Champion”
Would never form a part of you pedigree
But in my heart that seat always belongs to you.
You will always be “Riska” – My OWN little “Siegerin”
Riska – uncontestably “Champion…
When you walked into the ring you were proud –
Self-confident, like an Africa Princess
Blue blood flowed warm through your veins
Your muscles were supple and perfect
A burning fire glowed in your eyes
And inner strength showed off
Your noble character that flashed from your being
With open pride and skilfully toned beauty
Nobody and nothing could ever extinguish
The flame within you…
Nothing…
…except that which was latent in your genes
Even before you were born…
…which lay cold and evil,
Waiting to steal exactly that which you exalted
With each breath, sound and movement…
…your life…
Had I but known but beforehand…
Perhaps then you would have stood a chance…
Who would have thought that this hour of hellish brokenness,
This moment of brutal separation,
Would come so quick and sudden,
So black and oh so lonely?
Why did the cruel cancer had to choose you?
You were but 8 years old…
Why did it have to be your clear brown eyes,
Always burning with fire and self-confidence,
That so suddenly turned dull and lifeless?
Why your beautiful head that suddenly
Came to rest against my shoulder?
Why did I, whom you have trusted above all else
Have to be the one that ultimately betrayed you?
Why me? Why you… my Riska?
Antoinette LeRoux © 2016
My Riska (1990 – 1998)
The Night is For Sleeping
The day is long
as the night is young
The music serenades
my ears as the tea
warms my throat
Chai for the win
22 hours later
and I still can’t find
the allusive sleep
that keeps my insanity
away and my
days from feeling
like torture
so I write and I read
and I write some more
about love unfound
and time that flies
when you’re having fun
or something like that
Indian spices swirl across
my tongue and I hum
to the sounds of
a Neo-Soul mix tap
seeping with Indie R&B
newcomers, the
mood is just right
for an all nighter
but the midnight oil
is about to run out
because the sun setting
rising and setting yet again
indicates that I’ve been
awake far too long
and it’s time to lay
these bones down
running on auto pilot
and copious amounts
of caffeine
exhaustion wins
tonight
FJ original 2016
At the Diner
Denny’s, America’s Diner
Kristen and I go there for privacy
To discuss the drama in the house
To plot the revolution
To find a way to take back our home
From the Lodgers we had invited in.
I always order, except when I don’t
The Everyday Slam (which sounds like a punk dance)
Whole wheat pancakes
Sugarless Syrup
Sausage,not bacon
Bacon isn’t really food I say,
to Kristen’s annoyance.
She likes the taste of bacon
but won’t let me get it for her.
Scrambled eggs with steak sauce instead of Ketchup.
Just to class things up.
Over the years we have seen the economy change
The servers are newer hires who don’t last as long as the veterans,
Who moved on after their hours were cut.
To avoid giving them bennies.
Now the dramatic couple and their sweet teenager are gone,
Replaced by an quiet, amiable fellow
The house is quiet.
We eat at home more.
Especially since my blood sugar edged up.
I no longer eat pancakes.
Denny’s, America’s Diner.”
Somehow we caught on
The food wasn’t that great,
nor the service
nor the atmosphere,
It was the company we kept all along.
18
They stalk each other
In an endless ritual.
Scent hangs heavy in the air.
Smouldering glances dart back and forth~
A snarl is heard.
Grasping each other
Locked in lust~
They bite and scratch.
Devouring each other with their souls.