Category: My Nineties Poetry

Pre-dawn dark, silence. Nothing to still my clawing Thoughts in this empty House.   Cold stones echo As I descend the winding Staircase.   My dog, asleep on her chair Hears me through her dreams, Wags her tail, Knows me.    Knows me.   She stretches, comes to put Her damp nose against My hand.… Continue reading IN THE DARK

A hot house it was, too small For the four of us, who bloomed too early In pots too small, were overfed, Flowering quickly, before it was too late.   We struggled to blossom prettily To become the right color and shape Exude the most pleasing fragrance   It seems, though, that in the hot,… Continue reading EARLY BLOOMS

My future was before me, interminable I had the time, I thought, to get it right.   Time to become the woman I want to be, So nobody ever again could throw away My secret treasures, or move them So I have to ask where they are. Over and over I tell myself, This time,… Continue reading PRESENT TENSE

June 19, 1995   Frogs by the hundreds belch lust Into the June night. Their croaking drowns My thoughts so that   I am only muscle and bone Holding soft insides: Lungs, kidneys, liver, guts, Shiny parts working together To keep my heart beating.   I watch this moist And glistening bag of organs Moving… Continue reading JUNE NIGHT, FRANCE

  We glide silently across still water, like Venetian lovers. My oarsman’s deep strokes scarcely disturb The black water, though I peer, anxious, Over the side of this unstable craft.   We enter a narrow lock Crowded with oblivious ships , This absurd vessel tipping With the slightest shift;   I hold my breath to… Continue reading DREAM CANOEING

I sense the season shift, Though outwardly, nothing much is changed. The air continues warm.  In the afternoon, It will be hot again. Only an edge of coolness lingers In early morning.  In the eveningLight mellows, shadows lengthen andDeepen.  The sky is a paler blue. Mostly, though, it is the hush,As if all nature has… Continue reading BREATHING OUT – AUTUMN

During the night a Fearful wind battered the shutters Against the stones, and Screamed down the chimney, A maniacal ghost whirling dead ashes, Flinging the kitchen door open, Smashing it against the wall, Shattering the panes. This silent morning-after, Only broken glass, ashes everywhere Witness to the night’s frenzy. Leaves in the grape arbor whisper,… Continue reading POST-MISTRAL