Month: January 2023

If The Kraken Still Had Eyes

NEWLY found specimen, giant squid, eyes the size of dinner-plates.
PUPILs, slits in light, plates in the deep, always seem to watch you,
UTTER fascination, thrill for the museum-goers. What if it were alive?
BRINE? If I were in there with it? It would see me . . . it’d be the last thing I ever see.

Warm embers in old age…

SUGAR, sugar, I’d love to buy you A ROSE,
but the florist’s shut and the car is broke.
ELDER, my elderberry, there’s no KNEED;
I know ya love me, and that ain’t no joke.          

What Trees Might Recount

SUGAR sap pressure ebbing, yet bare arms stay held aloft in winter’s cold.
KNEED with branch knots, gnarled giant stands firm in time.
ELDER, awaiting springs, you watched our generations as they
AROSE, then fell. If you could spread our tales like a rustling canopy!

Baking

SUGAR and flour dusting apron and countertop alike, the
ELDER baker and her sous-chef granddaughter finished the cupcakes, having
KNEED the oven door the rest of the way closed. From the kitchen
AROSE the aroma of love and memories.