I grew up in the countryside,
on a farm with the nearest
neighbor a quarter mile away.
Every night the stars shone like
unreachable precious jewels
adorning eternity– and I felt
very, very small and yet,
strangely, also very, very old
and more, oh, so much more
than my daytime self drunk
on the petty and the mundane.
Now I live on a quarter acre
with neighbors on my left and
neighbors on my right and
neighbors across the street and
a big city so near it cloaks even
the light of stars at night and
I am left only with the memory
of eternity….
– L.j. Carber…
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After our argument I’m not ready to
be the one to make the first move
back to our comfort station
but I did buy a bag of your
beloved M & M’s
believing we will have sweet again
still my anger keeps me naming the
M’s in the waiting bag
monsters and morons
manipulators and mangles
manners and maturity
monkeys and manatees
then I remember how
thrilled you were to show me
the monkey you found
hugging the tree
I remember snorkeling together
giddily discovering the manatee
playing with his mother so close
to our hand holding space
is that you I hear coming
to my closed door
have an M & M
my most maddening
marvelous much-loved
magical man
– Susan Shea…
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The child takes us Mason-jarring
out where the backyard meets the woods
Soon each jar contains a nondescript black beetle
of uncertain entomology duly given
a name such as ours
At supper call we two adults assure
that Mike and Ike and Lucy are released
back into their usual less confining environment
and forgotten
Freedom is a simple gift to give another
yet if I were to be kept anywhere
I would prefer a grownup girl’s memory of me
to a Mason jar
as like Ike Black-Beetle
I crawl the world’s backyard
under or over blades of grass taller than me
hiding from sun and sparrow
– Russell Rowland…
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The role allows him to charge into windmills
with a sly smile: was it a mistake?
He cultivates this persona
with people who don’t expect much from him,
this clumsy gentle giant with soft brown skin.
And when he messes up and smiles
they all laugh:
“Oh, Monster.”
And help him with his errors and work.
Monster cultivates this persona
with people who don’t expect much from him—
they happen to always be White—
because Monster knows they can see his size and skin
in two ways: threat or pet.
He chooses pet
because it’s something he knows
because he doesn’t know what he is with others like him but not
because he doesn’t know what he is
and the idea of being himself,
not acting a part, even as a fool,
is terrifying.…
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After a certain point . . . when? . . .
it seems we age at different paces.
See Parkinson’s effect on Don:
scientist, revered professor,
he struggles to say hello
or even hold a fork.
Then there’s dementia—
see what it’s doing to Jan:
once a nurse in the military,
her sweet smile belies her absence.
Supporting them in countless ways,
their spouses hover, preventing a spill,
stopping a fall, pulling them halt-
ingly into our conversations.
Granted some uncertain reprieve,
the rest of us reside in a separate…
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When dating, I’d love to watch my partner
drop her credit card from her tanned hands
and attract the male Spanish-speaking servers.
She’d get frustrated they skipped her
Hawaiian name’s too-many successive vowels.
She’d adjust her inherited Hawaiian jewelry,
declaring her identity and anger at them
for jumping to connection with her Spanish last name
and not knowing Pelayo is Spanish from the Philippines.
Oh the struggle of mixed-race names
the ones that have stories behind them,
stories that are never read.
I loved her frustration, that impotence
you feel at being unheard but loved.
Love that makes it impossible to complain.
When we married, she took my last name,
hyphenated ethnicity and confusion.
With the added punctuation, she became
less of an individual
more connected to me.…
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You walk the beach at Nazaré
and carry for your granddaughters
the shells and pebbles they’ve discovered –
each a treasure – until, hands full,
the girls must now decide again
which to save and which to return.
Walking, stooping, passing judgment,
they assay each piece, then keep
or toss or simply leave it in the sand.
For you, time’s the treasure – moments
measured by these pebbles and shells.
Climbing closer all the while,
massive waves break, run,
and tease the girls’ feet with foam.
This tide keeps an ancient time –
past without beginning, future
without end, indifferent to hands
full of precious moments, gifts
from these children just for you,
grandparents treasuring time.
– Douglas Twells…
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