The stars are so thick (in rivers and ways) they bend down to trouble your sleep.
Coyotes pick off the chickens one by one. Trees but not many: utility poles
but not many (and shorter than you know): instead of grass, rusting
random bits of Americana no larger than
a junkyard poodle
*
Listen carefully or not at all. The streets tell a history as thin as the pavement:
Saddle Sore Trail, Last Dollar Trail, Gunslinger Trail
Yes, the S-2, running somewhat north and south, reminds you that the stagecoach
went by – and the RV park (Stagecoach Trails) confirms it. Yes again, Ginny,
if you want to feel like Mark Twain saw the same desert views you’re
viewing. No harm, I suppose, but I’m pretty sure he took
the northern route
*
The morning I left for the coast the yellow eye of the sun quickly burned a hole
through the silver gelatin of fog.… ...continue reading
1986
My sister and her husband called Wednesday and told me Dad had
molested their daughter. Over the weekend. At his house. He was
babysitting her. Another sister told them the previous week that they
should be concerned because Dad had fondled her from seven until she
left home at seventeen.
The four-year-old. . . pain, pediatrician, abrasion, evidence. By law, the
doctor filed a report. My sister . . . he put his pinkie in her, he had her
hold his penis, something thick, like toothpaste, came out. It’s what play
therapy revealed. Pedophiliac. I never knew the word before.
1987
Our father pleaded no contest on two counts of child molestation against
his granddaughter. There will not be a jury trial. We are relieved.… ...continue reading
The Eastern Equine Encephalitis Virus:
4 people in Massachusetts have died this summer,
and the area of high alert inches closer.
Each day we read, cuddle, ingest
and expel fluids, read poems, and cry.
I teach him about our indoor plants:
irisine, philodendron, echeveria, anthurium.
He likes to look out the window.
We stay inside the house.
Outside, cherry tomatoes split
their skins, slip to the ground,
and succumb to birds and earth.
All the bruschetta we did not eat this year.
I can’t wait until hard frost,
when mosquitos die in droves
and we lord over the streets like animals.
… ...continue reading
Dishrags. Washrags. Dust rags. Rags from the rag
bag that big gunny sack, far end of the closet, where old
coats hang. Get me a rag, Mom says, to wipe up
the spill.
…………….Hear that tearing sound? Old sheets, new
rags. Stained tablecloth, worn towels, a torn blouse
(the one with blue and gray leaves, fabric Aunt
Judy sent; the one that I sewed), tee-shirts—
red, purple, gold. We could design a quilt.
We’re cracking walnuts, knocked from our tree.
Mom gets a long-faded towel rag,
puts it under the door.
…………….…………. .……=.No rags in our panties.
(We’ve got Kotex pads, tampons.) Old cotton undies?
Even blood stained, they make decent rags. That skirt?
Mom asks. Why don’t you wear it anymore?… ...continue reading
we were watching the Scandinavian version of “The Bridge”
though I had sworn off anything described as unflinching.
I didn’t mind being a spectator, but the great variety of pain
that was mine: I was tired of its reflection. Who has not
witnessed the separation of love from the body it was written in?
– Samn Stockwell
Author’s Note: I have never recollected anything in tranquility, yet this poem feels unhurried, so I am pleased to have achieved that. This poem is only 3 sentences, so it doesn’t have much room to create the feel of complete action. It follows the simple arc of an idea and that is the poem’s sole movement. The way movement is often accomplished is through repetition, shifts, and juxtapositions – all harder to do successfully in a short poem, of course.… ...continue reading
Another day, another mass shooting.
Another day, another mass shooting.
At 4 am, baby kicks me awake,
and I read about the latest in El Paso, Texas
and Dayton, Ohio.
A witness describes a six month old
swaddled in blood.
I am due in thirteen days.
Yesterday morning, I wished
he would come.
Now I want him to wait.
I will stay inside the house.
He can stay inside me.
– Francine Rubin… ...continue reading
Florida Junes sweat you to the bone
Ichetucknee means big water or gift from God
heat like this I don’t know how you wear clothes
I got to sleep naked I got to
swear to God the chinaberry never quits
the cicada radio never quits in Florida Junes
crape myrtles pop their one trick
pink petals and paper buds die midair
Nature is a one trick pony if you ask me
Skylar slips off her aqua kimono… ...continue reading