The Poetry Marathon

2022 Poem Six

A list of things that fit on our king sized bed with us on it:

Two cats; a dozen sweatshirts; a sense of belonging I have never felt before in my life; one-eighth of our polycule; three stuffies the size of a toddler; getting lost in the creamy coffee color of your eyes; one wedge pillow; a phone for every person on the bed; a sloth stuffy that is also a heating pad; whatever the opposite of being in the closet is; an actual heating pad; 2 wrist braces that should be on my wrist but aren’t; the molecular space that is all that separates our bodies; a king sized, chunky knit blanket; four other, smaller blankets of various soft materials; an existence that is inherently a protest; and a well worn body pillow

Hour 1 prompt title In the Pool

In the Pool

With my granddaughter
Is a perfect joyous space

The Arizona sun beats down
The water is warm yet cooling.

The child at ten still
Plays with abandon.

She is safe and knows it…
Has no idea what a luxury that is.

Hour #13–Coral Reefs

Immersed in vivid colors

A world of vibrant wonder

A visual symphony

 

Temperatures rising

Foreign debris has moved in

 

Colors scream before fading

Residents are gone

Bleached skeletons remain

Blue River

“I slowly stare at the blue water rushing by,

As I sit down and dip my toes in the cold river,

And the river keeps flowing unconcerned,

Eventually I gently ease myself into the river,

And bathe in its refreshing cold water,

I feel the weight of the modern day,

Slowly lifted off my back,

As I fall in love with the flowing water.”

Divorce Proceedings

The one thing that I needed

Was the same you wouldn’t grant me

I tried further explanation

But you couldn’t understand me

Couldn’t being wouldn’t

You had so very many chances

And if only you had asked

I would’ve given all the answers

I needed ‘cause I love you

I needed utter disbelief

But when I asked you why

You married me

To show me I’m naïve

You looked me in the eyes and said

I thought you’d never leave

Shadow of the Tower

Shadow of the Tower

 

In the shadow of the Tower

just beyond the Circle,

practicing Tai Chi in Central Park

as Bennie, Zoe, Liz, Adams,

broadcast tales of criminal corruption.

Empty wine bottle on nearby bench

proclaims last night’s comradery,

debauchery while other creatures slumber.

Brazen little brown mouse

scampers between our feet

asking for some reciprocity,

some quid pro quo.

“How about I don’t crawl up your leg,

you drop me some food.”

We play in Central Park,

home to mobster mice,

guarded by monuments to evil men.

 

The Reception Room Prompt 12

The door opened and the room came into view. It was a room brought together by

musicians and artists and writers and their guests. It received them. There was 

no challenge as to which group was most important. The musicians wanted 

audiences to hear their music. The artists wanted people milling about looking at the pieces on the walls and tables that they had created. The writers, who had worked, through nights 

with candles burning down to save electricity wanted people to hear their words, 

the order of the words they had chosen and the ideas the words generated. 

They needed people, guests. All of the people who came to visit the room were 

its guests. Guests of the other artists and guests of each other. They all gave 

their time, the most important thing that they each had to give, to each other.

Poem 13. Sometimes a Bad Thing Can Push You to a Good Thing

She could pinch on the
inside of your arm with her
thumb and index nails
so fast and hard a bruise rose
immediately, water

spilled out of your eyes
as a reflex, and if you
flinched, you got one more.

I wore sleeves for five
years, kept my hear down, sang all
the right notes… always.

They say a little
black dress, the right one, will change
your life, and it’s true.
I wanted that sleek sleeveless
shift more than her approval

more than her threats of
never being good enough
for her, more than her
intimidations, and her
promises of leaving me.

That little black dress
saved me. In the shower one
morning, she grabbed my
upper arm. Seering hot pain
blew through me to my fingers

familiar blood welts
made crescent shapes in my flesh.
That afternoon I
bought the dress. I left her that
night, and I never went back.

I didn’t wear the
dress for almost a year. When
I finally did
my arms were clear, and my head
was clear, and my heart was healed.

And I looked fabulous.

.

From Across The Pool

From Across The Pool

 

And the fire burns

as the hotel shines bright

 

Six rescue trucks light

the way, pick-up volunteers.

Flash, flash, flash the window

 

screams, holding tightly.

Lightning streaks across the sky.

 

Old red trucks pile

in, water tanks poised

 

to aim, but nothing

ever comes, no men

 

to bear arms. Electrical

stairwell waiting to win.

And the fire burns,

 

screams holding tightly,

wisps of hope trailing high.

Hour 13 : Missed

Ubiquity in my memory

The fact that you are missed

As the day glows yellow and orange

The summer of the eighties

 

Overlooking you for brighter birds

They sing sweet melodies

But I cherish the rattle and the chatter

An epitome of freedom

 

You don’t show the weakness and pain

You hide behind the tough guy charade

So, no one can see you afraid and cold

You taught me to let go and fly freely