24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Ekphrastic Response to photo by Birk Enwald
I self-imposed this block from you.
A “V” for Victory for me.
It’s about perspective.
This is the path you do not cross because alien space can view my “V” for victory.
This is a landing path, my crop circle made for them not you.
I am safe as they “beam me up” house and all. They have promised to take some forest with me as they enclose me in a globe for exhibit. DMW
The House in the Middle of the Road
one
(tw for domestic violence)
There is a comfort in a porch light
How it welcomes us into homes unfamiliar
Following the road signs of a new relationship and keeping between the caution lines
We process the yellow as warmth instead of warning
Don’t see the pathway pre painted to swallow us whole
We are drawn to the light
Because we are taught that light is our salvation
Centered over a doorway like a third eye
Windows black like bars but we don’t see the prison
Just the warmth overhead, like an angler fish, luring us in
Before the door slams shut behind us and the beatings begin.
We slipped into the night our stars wrapped in clouds, we tossed our dreams into the ocean and swept yesterday away.
Beneath the moonlight l surface l taste the earths breath, for a moment l dare to dream , to hope that l have meet your fire and survived
The sun rose its song calling my heartbeat from the depths of darkness, it is a dangerous game we play the future and l.
This is how she found us,
the past draped about us like a cloak.*
Before her discovery,
memories crackled like the fire.
Our cats swirling around our legs like smoke.
My mind is racing.
Will we leave together?
Or find that there is nothing left of our marriage?
I have so much to say.
You reach for my hand.
I open my mouth.
*after Diana Khoi Nguyen
I wear time, present, future, past.
It feels like a movie that moves way to fast.
In the mirror everyday, I see change.
Looking for the me I know, it’s all so strange.
If time is an illusion, a man made thing.
Wouldn’t it be great if it was forever spring?
Solitude for the mother who escapes the constant needs of little ones for a moment,
Isolation for the one sick in the hospital longing for a visitor.
Solitude for the businessman taking a week off on a distant island,
Isolation for the widow weeping at the graveside.
Solitude for the one living off the grid in the peaceful wilderness,
Isolation for the one lost in the dark woods.
Solitude for the one that slips on their headphones on a busy sidewalk,
Isolation for the one slipping relentlessly into the grip of dementia.
Solitude for the one taking a peaceful walk through the park,
Isolation for the one who makes the park bench their bed.
Solitude is being alone by choice,
Isolation is having no choice but to be alone.
– Diana Kristine
A watchful eye
hopeful, lingering
through the night
on grayed hair
falling, landing
unexpected, invasive
Heavy steps
in creaking hallways
Sagging skin
draped from tired eyes
The pale rider
catches my gait,
sees me lurking bitterly
in the shadows
He stops, observes
then carries on
This night is not
for me
and he has been
patient
in his claim
of Lords and Kings
A check point vacant
this is how I start the game
wordless and alone.
– Sandra Johnson, 9/2/2023
We drove all night, the car full of sleeping children. Talking quietly to keep each other awake, we yawned and waited for morning.