Trish Saunders

THE KNIFE-SHARP EDGE OF THE WORLD

 

He folds a page from the post-intelligencer in half.

Look, this will be our house, he says, stooping in below

the headline, “Snow in Forecast.” She makes herself 

small to follow him inside. 

They have no windows, but light moves through newsprint

illuminating stories in 11-point times roman. 

Early morning, the cost of corn is big news; 

midday, a rare bird alights in the schoolyard.

At dusk, lightning strikes a cow.

They have no need for clocks but want sharp scissors--

to carve a door, she explains.  

The house trembles then, 

black ink drips down walls, 

discarded fonts cover their feet.

Somebody is rewriting the story of our lives, 

he shouts in a panic. Quick, turn to page three! 

Find a horoscope, the science report, anything. 

In silence now, they watch papered walls

undulate in the wind, like someone waving, or maybe dancing.

Michelle Smith

Look out below

The weather water is not frightful 

it's wind and rain is bone chilling cold

of winter will not provide a splinter

In gloved hands by Steve Madden

My #Girlspeaks black apple cap

with the ball in the middle frames

my sepia face well and defines

The drops on my Totes beige and black

button automatic umbrella open from 

My LA born vintage fingers 

Look out below

Work anti oil slip  boots by Dr. Scholl's warm

warm my ankles laden with arthritis as

I walk at a pace somewhat slow and kind 

Avoiding a puddle made by the 

atmospheric river that floods In

streets that have famous corners 

like Hollywood and Vine

or a car and it's tires watering my 

Torrid plus size  fit on my body love 

and black leather foot length coat

adorning my Hershey's kiss body

immensely that no water frosts me

and the words

Look out below 

will not splash my hips, waist, & behind.

Fashionably fabulous and fine from

head to toe.

Raindrops swish, clean, and grow.

Chad Parenteau

Lookout

Windows 

keep shades

ajar

to see 

who might

rise above.

Heather Romero-Kornblum

What I Broke Out Of

I said everything was just an empty shoebox to you

when they contained gifts 

I lovingly contemplated

I’m not surprised I was shelved

in some city of ruins in your brain

There is something still alive in this old life of yours

Urned fetal into plaster,

I screamed

I can pick up the pieces

Make it beautiful

Platonic Wife

What the fuck is a platonic wife?

It’s not the woman whose body

you can’t get enough of

but she almost dies

(anaphylactic shock,

then heart attack,

pulmonary emboli,

adrenal crises,

etc.)

Then

you almost kill her

(mixing up her meds,

letting her teeter low oxygen

in and out of consciousness for two hours,

screaming at her to choke it down

as, unable to swallow, she heads toward paralysis,

refusing to administer the epi pen while on the phone with 911

and the operator begging to help epi me as I was so far gone,

I forgot how, 

despite my so-called obsession with anaphylaxis,

etc.)

You vow

Never again

(supposedly over

your mental break

but now fearful of eros)

As a platonic wife

it would be ok-ish if I die

survivable

You wouldn’t accidentally almost kill me

for (almost) dying 

– I’m in my 40s

I don't have time for this ridiculousness

of a platonic wife

(certainly not after 10 years together,

and spending the last year in and out of death

and being physically able to fuck again)

Stoicism and monk-like tendencies

are so ego-driven

I would rather be loved

Out loud

Before I am dust

Rainbow

I saw a rainbow today

out the window

Wet trees hiding the miracle

Then I returned 

storage bins to Target

to buy groceries

Everything is ephemeral

Terry McCarty

CLASSIC TEXAS

I took a good look around my hometown

of vacant lots and empty buildings

but drove too slow and a policeman followed me

in a police SUV up to a stop sign

where the driver to the right

ran through another stop sign

and the policeman didn't chase that driver

but turned right after we turned left

we then drove to the family home

after passing by junior high

turned into eight-year school

because someone persuaded the town

to close the elementary school

and build what looked like converted trailers

on the junior high property

the billboards on the highway

paint my hometown

as a cozy place

where tourists can exit

and spend an hour or two

once upon a time,

until around 1969,

it qualified as that place

now take a good look around

then see the policeman behind you

and prepare to maybe get a ticket

so the town can have money

to keep breathing

 

THE SPOTS WON’T COME OUT

watched the Seymour Hersh documentary 

and admired his willingness to print truth

in spite of those in power:

My Lai, Abu Ghraib, CIA misdeeds

but when truth is out in public

the powerful object

everyday people look the other way 

the perpetrators only get light punishment 

America is still a contradiction 

less free for more and more people

profiteering more important 

than evil done in its name

while the Senate and House sleep

DONALD TRUMP COSPLAYS KILGORE IN APOCALYPSE NOW

Chicago doesn’t deserve this horrible stupid visual meme 

the city and state should be left alone to cope with crime, 

its root causes and fallout instead of being federally big footed 

One can be disgusted anew by how Donald Trump 

who called soldiers suckers and losers 

and chose to avoid Vietnam not out of principle but expedience 

makes the cobra brain decision to be exploitive 

and again counts on an unthinking unreflective core group 

to wave him through to the next outrage

R A Ruadh

A look at the weather

I look out at the back field

the snow blowing sideways

piling little drifts on the corners

of my kitchen window

I look out at the hay barn

the rain beats against the

living room window and puddles

in the tractor tracks down below

I look out across the street

at the blue sky and the sun

shining between the clouds

playing catch me if you can

All at once

All the weather

All around my house

Doing Mark Twain one better

If you don’t like the weather

just look out a different window

Sentry

He paced the line between

safety and danger

seeing the forest between the trees

danger lurking in the dimness

The dark of the moon

hid the most menace

every sense alert for disturbance

of sound of scent of shadows

If there was to be an attack

he would be the first to die

his life in exchange

for his duty to shout warning

Long years later

he would sit on his steps

staring out as as night fell

silently watching and waiting

For what I never knew

Antoinette Vella Payne

The Moon Belongs to Everyone

Walk you the gentle way

The end must come

No matter what joy

or hardship is spent

Take your ride without guilt 

but with grace  

where each other is

winner

Look out at misty

shimmering lights

reflected in dark

dreaded pitch pines

Walk a labyrinth

where forest & bog merge

steam swirled into whispers caught

by the snow goose & mallard

Where we all hear the call

each a part of consciousness

each a part of the other

we leap into eternity

The Unattainable Index  

Ghosting myself, I slip silently away to peer into what’s unattainable. Tell myself, “Look out, once you close the door, what seemed real is gone. Reach instead for the pinnacle, the zenith, the world’s radio waves in light. Offer up beautiful calamity, echoes of grief, helium’s iridescence, moments evolved to eternity in place of yesterday or forever.”

A Accidentally alert

B Beauty beyond  

C Calamity prepared

D Distance up close

E Echoes silence 

F Fearless immobility 

G Grief hurried

H Helium rock 

I Iridescent night 

J Justice ends 

K Kingdom of all

L Light sombre

M Moments disconnected

N Neverland

O Ostrich ostensible 

P Pinnacle blunted

Q Query stated 

R Rich salt 

S Star launch

T Truth cushioned

U Ugly service

V Vitriol love

W Weary wonder 

X X-rayed brain fog

Y Yesterday resumed

Z Zenith ground zero

Soul Searching in a Country Song 

Blackbird flees to grey sky

Perch up high on pine tree branches

Look out on Page Street

Tiny humans like ants walking upright 

to her bird’s eye view 

City sounds carry up too

Horns, sirens, saws and the man

on the corner strumming & singing

loud & clear in public  

Jeffry Jensen

LOOK OUT FOR THAT TREE

After a long day of swinging among the trees,

I holed up in my reconfigured den for the duration.

No one worth their weight in salt dared to disturb me

or the cats positioned near the bedroom window.

The cats would give me sign if anyone ventured onto my porch.

In the jungle, I have been a George who looks out

for any danger real or imagined.

A storm has put me in full retreat.

Cats have taken cover and left no forwarding address.

Maybe by nightfall, I can gather the troops

and put my Pasadena life back in order.

With fingers crossed, I dress for another jungle sweep.

Merritt Waldon

We reach the look out

Sky expands limitless

Evergreens spire tall against

The mountain

 

We reach the look out

Out of breath

Longing for fire

& Rest

 

 

Spirit leaks song

Gazing long in to all that exists

Out here

 

Mind meat spirit gather

Against sky

Look

 

Spirit leaks

Song

 

 

 

Untitled

Out there violent rage abounds

Soft cry of madness against flags

There may be peace in Gaza

Yet this soul is on fire from the war

On dreams

 

Look how they crack open our skulls

Look how they suck out our freedom

Surgically trying to destroy

Eternity

Joan McNerney

Landing

A plane crashed on

Sterling Place

Brooklyn. 1960

 

128 passengers

& six on the

ground. Dead

Couldn’t believe it.  

My friend, Arlene

lived nearby. Worried

 

Got off the bus

walked over & saw

a plane. Overwhelmed

Smell of burning

aircraft as black

soot hung in the air. Unreal

Part of a big gray

plane taking over an

entire crosswalk. Gloom

December 16th

how could any joy be

found in these hard...streets?

We were both15 years old

and Arlene was okay.

We shook our heads. Confused

Looking over our

shoulders to figure out

what comes next. Scared

Edward S Gault

 

ARREST

The neighbors saw them,

Late that night

Pound at the door,

Then break it in and enter.

Moments later they came out,

With an elderly man and woman

In handcuffs.

They were small and fragile,

Still, the big men held them tight.

One of the officers told them to stay quiet

                                                            Not to resist

                                                                         Not to fight.

The couple were dazed, confused, and tired

From having been wrested from sleep.

An officer told them that they didn’t belong,

Their time in this country was at an end;

And they would be sent back to their own country.

The old man explained that this was his country,

He and his wife were both citizens,

They ran a little store down the street,

on the corner.

The officer said that they would check into all of that,

But in the end, it would be irrelevant,

                                           They did not belong there

                                                                   Their time here was at an end.

They were then put into the van, and never seen again.

The shop was boarded up.

The neighbors went back to their beds

                                                               Or to stirring their tea.

They couldn’t sleep well, though

                            The silence said, “The next time, it could be me.”

Pamela Shea

Stepping Out

“Next step”

Get set

“Step by step”

Helps one dance

“Step carefully”

Make sure you see

“Better watch your step”

Advice or a threat?

“Put your best foot forward”

Sometimes not so easy

“Side-step issues or questions”

Especially when threatened

“Step it up or you’ll fall behind”

Just don’t slip on a peel or rind

“Step to the beat of your own drummer”

Whether a head-of-state or plumber

“Don’t look down before taking one more step”

Keep your eyes focused on the horizon

“Next step”

You bet!

Marieta Maglas

Quadruple Haibun for Christmas

Aurora Borealis, a shimmering illusion of nature. The sun slices through the icy veil of the sky. I am in an igloo hotel. My crimson cup brims with steaming water, and I am patiently awaiting the mint tea to meld within. Its scent is green. I gaze at the kaleidoscopic sunbeam hues twirling in the polar expanse. The lifeless snow looks like velvety moss. All the fir trees still cling to their foliage despite the frost’s grip.

Christmas has returned,

and I feel transported

to another realm.

I am captivated by this ethereal dance of light. This planet is a colossal electromagnet, driving everything into motion. We are living electromagnets, radiating warmth. We inhale & exhale. The leaves’ photosynthesis is the antithesis of our breathing. Imagine each tiny leaf, like those of the pines, conjuring oxygen from carbon dioxide to sustain life. Imagine Adam & Eve draped in still-breathing banana leaves.

Think of this earth

wrapped in yellow & crimson,

the dead leaves of fall.

The boreal sunbeams crave nitrogen & oxygen to flourish in green. Imagine the boreal snow looking like grass. It is but a mirage. I take a slow sip of my hot tea. It seeps into my body, which is 80% water. A cascade of colors, reminiscent of the sun. Each arc of this Arctic Circle looks like a prism. The clock on the wall throbs erratically, mimicking the heartbeat of anguish, warping the essence of time, its pulsations accompanied by sounds that send shivers down the spine. Through the window, I behold the snow-draped rocks, appearing as if cloaked in moss. I lean closer to the glass.

Leaving the imprint

of my lipstick-laden lips.

An indirect kiss.

Santa Claus resides in my memories. During Christmas, I still imagine him venturing to realms where sunlight bathes the trees. Warm light. Different trees illuminated from various angles, reflections & refractions, the fluidity of water & the friction, vanishing. In the restaurant, beside a fire fueled by seal fat, the chefs meticulously craft the meat. An enticing aroma of fish wafts through the air. Living without flowers can be a challenge. Before me sits a Yup’ik couple. They wear garments woven from the skin of seals. Attire for all humanity. The world surrounding me continues to feel unreal. Africa is splitting apart under the relentless sun, and perhaps this icy realm offers refuge. Perhaps.

Dressed in white, the wife

looks at her Yup’ik husband,

while he sings Pisik.

Marie C Lecrivain

Each of us Like You

Has Died Once (H.D.*)

1.

These days my worries conscript 

new worries to march behind them, 

lest I take a moment to relax, 

and daydream of a future 

that won’t involve mass extinction.

2.

I open my curtains and look out the window.

It’s a cloudy morning, which means a sunny

afternoon overlaid with humidity will

drive up my menopausal thermostat, 

a thought that already has sweat running

down my neck. There are more shadows

than there used to be, thanks to the construction 

a three-story luxury condo. The biscuit-colored monolith 

obstructs my view. Now, I see the edge of dawn, 

where I once witnessed the whole thing. 

3.

What’s your exit strategy? I see this question 

pop up in memes and articles, and wonder—

in what context? With the exception 

of some species of jellyfish, we’re all 

headed for death, whether we like it or not. 

It all depends on timing.

(*From H.D.’s poem “Adonis”)

Tammy Smith

Skinny Jabs

A weekly injection

I take religiously

because it’s the best

shot I have

to lose weight.

The only shot

I’m willing to risk

some queasiness for.

Look, I’m not going to pretend

GLP-1s are the safest way

out of an addiction.

They’re likely not

everything influencers on TikTok,

Instagram followers,

or even doctors claim.

Believe me— nothing is that easy.

Least of all, learning to love

the skin we're in

isn’t a palace of sin

to roll out

for kings to walk over,

but a holy temple

our bodies deserve

to live in peace.

No less.

Anita Holzberg

A new day

In the interim take my leave

Of the material world

Dreams and hopes

Align

How fortunate

I  kiss  the daw n

I   Sing a song

It  is a new day

Hey hey

Brown

Brown is the color for this year's fashion brown is the color. My sister is satisfaction brown is the color I broke down and bought a brown sweater coat brown is is the color. Did you remember to vote brown is the color I bought a cream top that is satin with the brown satin skirt. Oh well it should be the color of dirt but it is and I know that I've said it before Brown is the color so don't you frown my dear it's brown 

 

Joe Grieco

Solar Flare

By all measure, you deserve the proven delights of this holiday season: sincere good wishes from your friends, foody indulgences, seasonal endorphins released, and a token or two of appreciation.

 

Mary Mayer Shapiro

SEASONAL ACTIVITIES

Look out

It's the season

They are coming

Find a place to hide

Aim, fire

Bulls eye

Hearing shots

Running noise

One chasing the

Other

Following bloody 

Trail

Success

Suppling the freezer

We are

Safe for another

Year

MISPLACED POWER

Riding with my daughter

Two grand children

Driving along the Road

Cars going in both

Directions

Possum ran into the road

Under the right front tire

Dead on the spot

Black truck tried\

To pull us

Over

Dangerous times

School shooting

Car Jackings

As fire police

Allow to carry

Have permit 

Already called 911

Stop at Wendys

Safe place

Man, and women get

Out of Black truck

Threatening

Told them to hit\

The ground

They reached for a gun

Shot in self defense

They were off duty police officer

MacMillian

Detective Fuller

That didn't happen

I was not there

They called office Dubois

Gave ticket for leaving a

injured cat

Daughter went to court

In Canandaigua

Judge said she should have 

Looked for the Owner

Daughter said dead possum

Office Dubois said injured cat

He was not there

Couldn't get his story

Straight

Police left an injured cat

Lying on the road?

Did not show proof of vet

Bill

I blew the whistle on a government

Employee for stealing

retirement money

Couldn't go after me

I am fire police

Used his position

Harassment, revenge

Went after my daughter

Look out for yourself

Corruption everywhere

Its Newburgh, New York

All over again 

REPEAT PERFORMANCE

Driving on a country road

Car behind you

Staying in your lane

Pass intersection

See a police car

Turning into your driveway

Car behind you puts on

Bright lights to check 

License plate

It's a police car

Its officer Dubois

Second car Office MacMillian

Shine lights on my grandchildren

For five minutes

Frighten them 

Caused emotional turmoil

Officer Dubois said 

My daughter was weaving

Did not give an alcohol test

She does not drink

Officers never lie

At court Officer Dubois 

Said she weave repeatedly

Honeoye Judge sided with

Police

Intimation, harassment

Can't go after me, 

Fire police, whistle blower of

Government employee

Look out, he has connections

But can my daughter

Newburgh, New York 

All over again

DOCOMENTING INCIDENT

Look out

Check it out

When driving

On country roads

Speed limit 

Tells you how

Fast you can go

Driving slower,

Look out for animals

Sudden stops

Curtsey in driving

Pull over when safe

Let other cars pass

Not in a hurry

To die

Red truck pass

Kept me in sight

Called 911 to document incident

September 20, 2025

Told them I did not want

Officers coming to the 

House

Officer Dubois came 

Knocking on the door

Told him about the other

Two incidents

Did you leave an injured

Cat on the road?

Shouldn't they be charged?

Are citizens not able to

Blow the whistle on corrupt

Government employees?

Connections, favors, harassment

When you do the right

thing.

PJ Swift

Breaking Waves

S. wades out into that large placid lake where he sometimes tosses skipping stones. As he swims from shore, he realizes that perhaps this lake is a sea, or even an ocean, because it is so endless. A tiny swell moves past him, the smallest of possible waves. On this wave rides a tiny surfboard full of miniature people. Swift gazes at them in awe. These tiny people are in the midst of a joyous celebration. Once their surfboard crashes into the shore, it will all be over for them and their miniature world. But for now, they are raucous and ecstatic, so happy that they are alive. Their surfboard moves on, closer and closer to the breaking shore. And Swift contemplates, adrift in this large boundless sea.

Heavens Above

The inhabitants of the planet enjoyed the most spectacular and glorious nighttime sky. Millions of heavenly stars sparkled in the heavens, creating a wondrous medley. But thousands of years of industrial activity served to clog the sky until eventually even the planet's daytime sun was barely was barely visible.

Following several centuries, the inhabitants' scientists were able to devote their attention to the matter, and over the process of many more decades, the inhabitants were able to scrub their sky of the pollutants.

But when their project was complete, the nighttime heavens remained barren. As it turned out, the pollution that they had created had not only wiped out the stars from their heavenly view, it had destroyed the entire universe.

Change

Everything changed so quickly. Everything moved so quickly.  Everyone lived so quickly. -- that suddenly, nothing was recognizable. To anyone.  But in their haste and vigor and rapid motion, no one noticed any of this.  To them everything looked and felt the same.  In a world of constant rapid whirlwind change -- the only thing moving faster — was their humanity. 

jf giraffe 🦒

THE EARTH FEELS SAD (Haiku)

World full of hatred

Look how kindness rarely used

Land of cruelty

LIES OF POWER (Haiku) 

Look at our leaders 

Why can't honesty prevail

Truth never shows up

WHAT IS BEING TAUGHT 

The movie had a number of violent scenes. I was surprised to see a couple with two young children sitting near me. It just didn't seem right. I cringed a little each time I saw the violence on the screen knowing that the children were seeing it too. All of a sudden the music and mood changed and there was a very sweet and tender scene showing the two leads kissing. At that point, I saw both parents immediately rush to cover their children's eyes. I nearly cried. Such sad priorities. 

Ellyn Maybe

A Special Place (Haiku) 

Look out for the world

It can be full of trauma

Yet Earth is our home 

Creative Possibilities (Haiku) 

An artist looks out

above the paintbrush night sky

Inspiration looms

The Man up there is Smiling (Haiku) 

Look out past the sun

The moon definitely has

quite a thing for you

Tim G Young

IN AND OUT

I don't care; I'm going in the Out door

Sometimes I get the "criminal" look from people

I don't care; I'm going out the In door

Let them stare, I said it before

I don't care

Rules are not made for doors

Far too many rules 

How many rules can you recite?

How many rules rule your life?

What's the story behind all this door business?

Who knows what goes on behind closed doors?

Probably some good old in and out

HARRY

The rabbit, Harry, knew his way around the ins and outs of his hideaway

He never paused to think about which way was the best to go

He never cared that much about thinking

He saw the best minds of his generation

destroyed by a hawk when his friend Milton stopped in the tall grass

to think, and it wasn't only Milton

Too many innocent souls murdered in cold blood

Harry knew what not to do

He rarely left his hideaway

except for very late at night to find food

He never invited anyone to accompany him

His worst-case scenario was if he was taken

at least no one else would be

He roamed deep in his hideaway, gaining strength 

to rendezvous with the darkness

The darkness took him far into the field

At the edge of the field, he saw a small fire

He silently pawed closer

It was a man with a cigarette

watching what Harry knew was a fellow rabbit

roasting on a stick, the man licking his lips

Harry had never made sounds before

but now an anger rose in him as he hopped

to the man's hand, roared his once hidden pain

knocked the stick the man held and released the rabbit

from the flames

A hawk roosting on a nearby branch

Woke to see the scuffle

Harry saw a wing ruffle

The man stood, the hawk descended 

The birds' cries pierced the night

Harry had one more roar stored 

His howl flew into the sights and ears of man and bird

chasing them into the unknown dark

Harry, feeling stronger than he had ever been

Sat near the dying flames and cried for his fallen brother.

Rebeca Thomas

Zenith

As I rest here at the top of this mountain, the peak of this beautiful large rock, I sit and stare out in front of me in silence. I think about the road that it took me to get here. It’s like our lives. Sometimes it’s rocky with boulders in the way that you can walk around or climb over or you can sit and stay there for a while and wait until you’re stronger. Sometimes there are lush bushes at the side of the trail. Sometimes there are dead leaves that have fallen from the trees in autumn. Sometimes there is no trail at all and you have to make your own. It can be challenging but always an adventure. Sometimes you can hear the creek and its laughter gliding along its waterway. If you keep going up up up the mountain on that trail, sometimes it will be smooth and easy. Sometimes it will be hard to breathe because of the elevation. Sometimes there’s the scat in the road from horses or coyotes, but remember that decays and becomes part of the landscape just like our own bodies here on this planet. We will die and become part of the landscape, too. I can walk the road that you followed and take detours here and there, but I will sit at the peak of the mountain, look out, and find myself again in the sunset. I’ll remember who I once was as the rays come down on me. I will sit and wait for the starlight above to make wishes. I will hike here to this peak under the full blood moon and remember the taste of joy again.

Barry Vitcov

Poodle Walks

Every day I take the same walk

Along the same sidewalks

Smudged by deer and dog shit

Up the same hill

To a nearby neighborhood

Where the average age increases

In proportion to the slope of the hill climbed

I’m with my poodles

Black on the left; white on the right

The white with a month’s life left

We trudge along and I hope

For no distractions causing the dogs

To get out of sync

Their paws and my feet in a pleasant melody

Of course the old people point and smile

The routine is expected

When I ask do you want to go for a walk

Enthusiasm is high; harnesses and leashes welcomed

Poodles never seem to notice

The changes I observe

Empty houses where seniors once lived

Or their own mortality

 

Sort of…

When fall approached 

and fire season had passed

a swallowtail butterfly

lingered outside your window

gorging on nectar

It’s an in-between season

sort of… like Horowitz playing Scarlatti

changing tempo

with precision and surprise

the temptation of our  musical lives

Sort of… like the look

from your far and empty eyes

as the swallowtail

display’s its wing’s… web-like designs

that tattoo artists try to copy and refine 

The solitude of that moment

belies the reality

of the streets

sort of… a protection

sort of… an envelop

empty and addressed

sort of… like the grief

that has numbed us… from

sort of…

 

Regular Maintenance

We ought to have regular maintenance

not just blood tests, a cold stethoscope 

and a general look-see

My car is on a maintenance schedule

predictable oil changes, filters, belts

lots of stuff I don’t understand

In simpler days when dad and I

untangled timing light and dwell meter cords

got out the socket set

purchased plugs and points 

spent Sundays tuning up

the Dodge, Ford or Plymouth

When I came of age

and assigned the task of inching

under the car on my back

unscrewing the oil drain plug

forever, it seemed, 

gunking up my hand 

till dipping my fingers

into sand-like hand cleaner

then washing with Lava soap

leaving my skin raw and happy

my introduction into manly behavior

which modern electronics took away

Shouldn’t we all have regular maintenance

get our oils changed once-in-a-while

get our timing right

get buffed and polished

get loose nuts and bolts tightened

dip our souls into something gritty

and unrefined

Paula Parente

SUN

Look out the sparkling glass that shines

Windows of sunlight surging in.

Rainbow prisms rebound off sitting room walls, and

Mirror reflects, keeping pampas grass alive, indoors.

Quail-decorated window in ceiling brings warmth, more light.

I walk to the next room; birds settled outside on ocotillo, resting.

Sun rays caress my head, sprouting as a seed,

Unfolding into perfection of timing, growth.

I remind myself to slow down. Trust.

I KNOW

No one knows that I know

what they’re thinking.

I see their stares, fingers pointing

as I look out from the storefront.

I hear their guffaws, knee slaps.

They don’t care for my glitter glasses,

shell clothes, my bony arms and hands.

There they are, staring again.

I stare right back. Come closer!

Ahh … what can I do?

I’m stuck here in this black wicker chair.

They don’t know what I know.