—Public Domain Photos Courtesy
of Nolcha Fox
IN REVERSE
If I could, I would start
with white-haired
wisdom, creaky bones
that long for warmth
that fade to rosy
cheeks and ample
breasts, no need for
sweaters, shawls,
come-hither dimples
bringing men from
all around, it’s spring,
it’s time to have
some fun.
If I could, I would start
with white-haired
wisdom, creaky bones
that long for warmth
that fade to rosy
cheeks and ample
breasts, no need for
sweaters, shawls,
come-hither dimples
bringing men from
all around, it’s spring,
it’s time to have
some fun.
ESCAPE
Take me to that place
where I’m perpetually thin
and I wear designer clothes
and one dog didn’t poop
behind the designer dining
room table where the maid
didn’t find it for several days
and the other dog didn’t barf
on the designer chair last night.
But this is Escape Island.
I’ll have to wait to fire the maid
until she cleans up the poop
and the designer chair.
Then I have to fire the dogs.
All while I have a hangover
from a three-day party
on my yacht.
This doesn’t sound like
much of an escape.
Does it?
DANGEROUS CHALLENGES
Once a furniture goat,
our 17-year-old dog
falls and can’t
get up. With loose
knees, arthritic hips,
she collapses in a heap.
We give her wooden
boxes to get up
on chairs and bed.
We hear crashes.
We pick her up.
She tries again.
SMILING
Smiling is odd,
especially in church,
when the preacher
is yelling of hell
and how we’ll all
burn up from sin.
He must wonder
what trouble
I’m brewing as I
put my tithe
in the basket.
I grin and
walk out
in the sun.
BAD TRANCE
I have to find the guy
who put me under a bad trance.
I put the chicken thighs
in the oven and proudly set the timer
to 28 minutes.
When the timer beeped,
I opened the oven,
to find I hadn’t
turned it on.
NOTHING IS STRAIGHT
I don’t see straight
lines anywhere.
Everything is curved.
The earth is round.
So is the horizon.
My body is a mess
of curves upon
curves upon curves.
Even my hunger
travels in circles.
Do you want
to pull in for some
fast food?
NOT SO BAD
I see things others
cannot, satin threads
in doors, autos doubling
in the streets, lines that
disappear when driving,
lights that strobe.
Magical and medically
induced. Maybe not
so bad. I can’t drive,
but I can be a child
again in my golden years.
I see things others
cannot, satin threads
in doors, autos doubling
in the streets, lines that
disappear when driving,
lights that strobe.
Magical and medically
induced. Maybe not
so bad. I can’t drive,
but I can be a child
again in my golden years.
THE CROSSING
I kneel before I cross to the other side. From this moment where I am to the next moment where I don’t know where I’ll be. From the clouds to the rain. From no pain to migraine. From this breath to my last breath.
I COULDN’T SEE UNTIL NOW
The night hid behind fog, buildings, streetlights, and traffic lights. I’d never seen celestial bodies shine in the sky.
One evening during a power outage, my head hit a shelf in the dark. When I could see again, my eyes were full of stars.
YES OR NO
Will she, won’t she?
Back and forth,
she weighs her options.
Can he provide the life
she thinks she wants?
He’s a patient man, but even
patience has an end.
By the time she makes
her mind up, he’s moved on
to someone else.
AFTER TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS
You are my worry
when you walk
in your flip-flops
in the rain to go
to the market.
You are the lump
in my throat
when you drive
to the next town.
You are absence
when you’re
in your office.
I love you.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
WHAT I HEAR
—Nolcha Fox
The phone doesn’t ring.
The dogs don’t bark.
I open the door to the heartbeat of the rain.
Tranquility.
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for today’s fine poetry, and for finding us photos to go with it!
The Home of the Fox-Lady
—Public Domain Art Courtesy of Medusa
—Public Domain Art Courtesy of Medusa
For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
