GROWING OLD

sermon joe

ballast sam

furnace sally

and music man

fallacious memories

of fading days

no longer mine to recall alone

idle feuds

monochrome dreams

cosmic battles

in well lit yards

innocent fragments

of a simpler time

no longer mine to reinvent

no regrets

the ultimate goal

no game

no foul

no glory

no need to tell a story

no expectation

no disappointment?

                              LIE

Life is much too selfish.

Copyright 2004

GRANDMOTHER ON INTERMENT

Life wore her

like a dirty rag

in her secret place

too long.

Twirled her emotions

in the air

with dust and debris

to find rest where they may

till men brush them off.

Time smothered her dreams

with unforeseen circumstances

so they festered

grew old and died quietly

underneath her intricate wrappers.

Trials toyed with her desires

broke her resolve

danced the cakewalk all over her heart

then made jokes of her stories

lies of her tribulations

and nothing of her fighting spirit.

Her time made her a wife

to a man she did not hate,

mother to children

she lived to care for,

woman in her place

but she walked everyday

with the queenly gait of abiamo

through the soft and muddy patches

of her ordinary days.

Now, the phoenix in her depths

longs for reawakening.

A second chance at a life well lived

according to the plaque

the children paid too much for.

It scratches frantically at the silk lining

of a space now much too small

to hold one entire life.

As soil is replaced

and the worms begin to congregate

a wish is issued from far within

that she gave a little less

and lived more.

Copyright 2004