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Wednesday, June 29, 2022

Hoopla Bird


 
Fay L. Loomis
—Poetry by Fay L. Loomis, 
Kerhonkson, New York
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain



WELCOME SPRING

cold pale sunlight 

warms tentacled branches


 
greening baby leaves 

burgeon thicket and tree


 
rowdy colors puncture sky

spring tarries in my forest
 
 
 
 


PURPLE DRESS, 1945

she wears hand-me-down

saved for special occasion

to Sunday school picnic 


 
solid purple dress

soft, bumpy

crepe, mom said
 


wide-eyed, she and sister feast: 

buns made just for hotdogs,

potato chips, red pop
 


gazelle girls

arms, legs giddy

gambol across picnic tables 
 


leg crashes through rotted board

she screams, tentacle-armed 

ladies yank child, drop to ground
 


teacher shrills: good lord!

has the devil gotten hold of you,

made you misbehave?


 
should have known,

unsuitable dress, 

harlot’s color.


 
sisters foot-slog home

dark silence

no jabbering
 


she strips away torn dress

shrouds self in farm clothes

strikes out for barn to feed animals
 


veers toward rusted trash barrel

throws wad on coals, flames curl

around dress like shame around her heart 
 


she watches purple turn to ash


(prev. pub. in
Stick Figure Poetry, 4-1-22)
 
 
 
Hoopla Bird
 
 


HOOPLA

hot pink joggers

hotter pink tee


 
orange and fuchsia paisley

cardigan, navy squiggles 


 
tangerine flowers

grow on pale pink socks


 
two-tone sneakers

robin’s egg and navy blue


 
eighty-something dressed 

to trot, nowhere to go
 


nap

perhaps
 



(prev. pub. in
Mad Swirl, 2-6-22)
 
 
 

 

THURSDAY LAST
 


nipped my quilt

to the line 


 
voracious wind set

pendulous swing
 


beyond Minkowski

spacetime

 
 
 
Forget-Me-Not

 

LIE ABED
 


Lie abed, fine lady

until ready.


 
Sip tea from porcelain cup

pinky finger up.


Dine on quail

and lobster tail.


Dance into dawn

barefoot on lawn.


 
Never know sorrow

in the land of tomorrow.


 
Dream on, my beauty,

dream on.


 
___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

HOW DO YOU KNOW?
—Fay L. Loomis


 
leaves color the air

lazily spiral earthward

settle into fickle mounds 


 
how to know when to let go

loosen stem from branch

accept death, decay

___________________


Welcome to the Kitchen, Fay! Fay L. Loomis lives in the woods in Kerhonkson, New York. A member of the Stone Ridge Library Writers and Rat’s Ass Review Workshop, her poetry and prose appear in numerous publications. A stroke (2017), combined with the pandemic, have woven quietude into Fay’s life. Again, welcome to the Kitchen, Fay, and don’t be a stranger!


___________________

—Medusa
 
 
 

 





 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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