JUICE. His parched dreams are jumble of guava, berries, citrus.
SPRIG of negligible shrub, its fibrous leaves make for lunch.
FAITH in a rescue at times waxes, mostly wanes. He fantasizes simple fare:
PENNE pasta in an Arrabbiata sauce.
Author: David Wright
Stranded
ATOLL, stranded chef paces. He’d rather be making
SAUCE. Instead he must
BROOK matters existential. How long can he last? When rescuers arrive, can he yet
CRAWL toward them. Will food ever be a luxury again?
The Gift of Morning
ANNOY!–it seems your vocation. First
FLUSH of dawn, you let loose upon the
ISLET your cock-a-doodle-dooing. We stir
AWAKE, contemplating the gift of morning.
Grace
GRACE is not always mild, like a cool breeze in summer; it can be like a
LATHE, locking down subject, rotating, setting up the needed cuts.
HENCE grace can be unwelcomed, as though something easier than the hardest miracle could turn
STONE hearts to living ones.
Weighty Thought
LAGER goes down easy on the deck,
FINCH warbles sweetly in the trees.
MARRY? That gives pause–a thought meant to last, meant to weigh,
CREPT into an inattentive life. Perhaps it’s time to measure the passing moments, make them count.
Phantom’s Calling Card
SLYLY he places the glove in the empty vitrine, then climbs away.
ABOVE he waits for guards to pace away, flits between shadows. An
OUNCE of feathers is louder. Diamond pouch around his neck, he
CRAWLs parapet, down pipe, then strolls out through the garden.
Back on the Ground
FLYER landed, hope against hope,
HOTLY fought passage at icy heights,
FREED from deadly dream of soaring freedom,
RALLY now and ask, is an earth bound life enough?
Hermione
FLAIR for study, for depth of thought, yet frail to fear.
EVOKEs question, how will you age, will you thrive?
OTTER: clever, bold, and playful. Will the
WRIST that swishes spells also grow into an otter’s paw?
Sheep Shear
SHEAR of sheep, in the Australian Outback, hot day.
ORGAN of sight: my imagination, sifting alternate lives:
MURAL of scene rises vividly to the mind’s eye.
COUCH traveler, free to roam,
while his hair grows long and his body too unfit for a sheep shear.
Amberthal
AMBERthal, the name of the find. Caveman encased in largest
LAYER of tree sap ever seen. Some think him lucky. Could have been
CRUDE tar pit that got him. Or a saber tooth. Was he humming a
DITTY when resin blobbed from above? Or contemplating abstract fate?