She inhales a scent of memory
Old sweater that remembers the body it enfolded
Releasing comforting peace amid grief.
.
.
Thinking of a character in a short story I’ve been crafting, today.
poem- voices September 8, 2016
Down the hall
voices–
murmurs words of whispered
conversations
I can’t quite hear.
The house is supposed to be
empty,
so I stalk the sound
searching for chatty intruders
their sibilant sussurance
strangely assured for the late hour
and their uninvited status.
In the bathroom,
it comes clear:
the toilet’s talking
to itself.
poem- expulsed September 6, 2016
The school was a haven,
if not used for the purpose intended.
Safety is more important than education,
but eventually offering safety,
is less important than throwing you through paper hoops.
Don’t they see you’re on fire?
poem- best laid plans September 2, 2016
Anticipation building.
Preparations made.
At the back of the mind
Really?
Surely there will come disappointment
instead of you?
poem- phantom cookies August 31, 2016
In my dreams
two cookies appear on my plate
when I glance down
I have eaten one.
In dismay I think
I just won’t eat the other,
but next glance,
it is gone, too.
I think, how strange, I eat
without even noticing.
That’s a bad habit.
.
.
(39 days on the diet–twenty pounds down–apparently my subconscience craves cookies?)
poem-odd August 27, 2016
I remember the Christmas
she gave me
a set of hotel toiletries
from her vacation to Portugal.
Gold embossed tiny burgundy bottles
shampoo,
conditioner,
lotion,
and an elegantly packaged
shower cap.
Should we have known
there was something
wrong with her
then?
poem-audition August 26, 2016
A sudden idea
A lyric check
Practicing belting in tune
over
and
over.
Yeah.
I think I can do it.
So I’m heading off
to my first audition
in 33 years.
Let’s hope my broken ankle
was adequate preparation
to return to the stage.
poem-drift August 24, 2016
The clouds drift beneath the stars in diaphanous gowns
Frogs call to distant lovers
Chill walks through the garden
Summer’s grasp on our evenings is slipping.
poem-almost August 21, 2016
You leave silver trails behind you.
They glisten in the morning sun
like fairy roads on the concrete.
Such light from a creature that looks like dung.
poem- bother August 17, 2016
Fabric on the ground
Measure and pin.
Ah! A helper!
Sit on the fabric
Upset the pins
Give me kisses
Crawl into my lap
Production stops.
Canine cuddles provided,
into isolation you go.
Work resumes.
Shawn L. Bird 