Determination came striding by the big plate window.
He pushed thru the front door,
swooshed serious midday
serious swooshed reflections
feet clicked economy of motion
not even waiting
for the pausiness
of the closing
the pausiness of an
expensive door closing.
He came up to the bar,
in straight, chic, leather,
aviator glasses,
opened his briefcase,
flipped his credentials on the table,
Clint Eastwood style.
A serious drink
none of that frou frou daiquiri crap
something vital and raw shot
knocked down with just the rocks
rolling ‘round the glass
quick finished.
I had to believe him.
he said
Chuck Yeager was his cousin
and this was no bull.
I could see the clouds in his glasses.
Everyone has a connection
to something big.
a good director
Makes Use of Grit
and Other Sources
like
Seeing Dirt on a Movie Spacecraft
or
Not Hearing Noise in Space
a good thinker
vanities about discretionary knowledge
so I like the heartichoke peels
the frustrated coffee stain lens
on the Distortion of the World
into Mercated Greenland
Sophie, my friend,
Her problem is position,
definition,
categorization.
Things that end in tion.
look up perdition,
quotidian, obeisance.
Do Not Turn on the TV.
curb those tendencies, aristotle
Be a Better Be.
Mary is so handsome.
Feral blonde indian eye
chic in all the fierceness
of an eighties airbrushed calendar.
The sun dapples the road.
We are crisp laundered
fresh makeup stays on good at 70 degrees
even mine
There's something about Mary.
a bike goes by
and the man falls
off his
seat
backwards
looking at her.
The road bears this,
invisible or inconsequential.
Still, Mary likes me.
In August, we sat on our knees
in Mom’s garden out back.
I lifted the rock
to show her his name
Winged and segmented creatures
worked tracks in soil under its belly.
The cicadas ringing alien
a chain switching gear
in the heavy air.
We had to go,
Mom called me inside,
tapping on the window,
“Frannie!”
Fresh sidewalk sets out front
My heart is drawn
and his and her initials’re
fingered in the sagging, wet chest
draping the earth
Random fallen leaves and twigs
stick in irregular intervals.
I am grateful for these.
Sometimes, in the moonlight
she is mercifully gone,
maybe with some wheels
on the beach somewhere,
waves pounding the strand,
stars a silent witness.
The backyard scene will compose itself
The creatures will sing for me
and I can hurt
with their every pulse
and pause
tide
and ebb.
|
kathy walker is a software engineer in mentor, ohio. she has been writing
poetry for several years due to natural and unnatural catastrophes and
discontinuities in the space time continuum.
aviator glasses
discretion
frankenstein
|
