woodcutters will be here in one month
evicting our birds from their homes
they were scheduled for April
I’m scheduled for heartbreak
I asked for “not spring!”
nestling killings
are not an
option
here
Headline News Nonet: on the countdown…..
Boo Shoo Nonet
Boo’s got that human look in his eyes
the kind people give as eye rolls
stare-down between dog and man
are you being for real?
I’m gon’ ignore that!
you’re joking, right??
go away!
I’m done.
Shoo!
****
oh,
but then
Boo Radley
steals my chair, begs
me to sit with him
to assure him that his
world is on its right axis
that he is the favorite dog
begs my forgiveness for his Boo shoos
Sunday Morning Donuts Nonet
they like their mini donut breakfasts
it’s what happens on Sundays here
pre First-Baptist-of-You-Tube
sitting at their dad’s feet
waiting on a bite
patient Schnoodles
best-behavied
time of
all
Great Granny’s Caramel Cake
my great granny Lena
made a caramel layer cake
second to none
back in the 1930s
between the Great Depression
and the sugar rationing years
teaching her daughters
the fine art of baking
just the way to moisten
the flour
just the way to bake
to touch
just the way to cook
the caramel sauce
not staying true
to any recipe, just
baking from the
knowing
baking from the heart
the way it tastes best
downtown,
a young man
“helps” an old lady across the
street when she
doesn’t want to go
still, emails come
offering to
pound cakes into molds
like this
the kind of store-bought
cake no one raves
about ever:
We are prepared
to support leaders
with individualized
coaching to positively
impact their school districts.
We have assembled
some of the best professionals
throughout the state to serve
as executive coaches.
We have made it a top priority
to provide this
performance-based l
leadership to inspire
leaders to “GROW” and achieve
maximum impact
my granny Lena knew the art
of a thing could not
underpower
the science of a thing
because frosting-forcing
falls miserably ~ implodes
like a cake that might
have been delicious
Toxic Relics
in Genesis
Lot’s wife looks
back longingly
to the past
before turning into
a pillar of salt ~
so as I part with
these pieces of
past, these
memory scars of
what once was
but is no more
I heed
Luke’s caution ~
that the past can be
the kiss of
death for
the present
old books
have arsenic
old paint
has lead
old memories
have heartache
The Worms
I checked daily for
weeks on our baby wrens
in the garage
on the old desk
destined for Goodwill
but when I got
home from work
the nest was destroyed
pulled into the yard
a broken candelabra
shattered on the
concrete floor beneath
something got our babies
probably the feral cat
the black one that
comes in at night
trips the light
prowls around on the hunt
I tiptoe sometimes
down the hall to watch it
in its silent quest for a
field mouse
something found these
baby wrens I’d
eagerly spied on
from eggs to
nestlings, almost
fledglings,
their tiny mouths
opening for worms
at the slightest
bump or noise
in nature’s cruel twist
they became
the worms
Rest in peace, little ones.
Gregg’s Peach Bread
toasted Gregg’s Peach Bread
fresh from the orchard nearby
slathered with butter
A Flickering
at 4:37 I heard
scrambling of paw
on wood floor
ticky-toe hurried
steps toward
the bedroom door
next the whining,
different from normal
pleas, like someone
stepping full weight
on my Boo Radley
then a return to
the bed, where he
turned in circles
bumping us with
his body to wake
us up, then lay
between our heads
trembling
panting
as if there were
a ghost.
I took them out,
all three,
in the light balmy
mist of the
pitch black
Georgia backwoods
starry skies
thought of the bits
of squirrel tail
over near the tree
line where violent
death hung in the
recent air
we came back
inside, and I turned
off the light to return
to bed.
A flicker after the
switch-off, and I
knew.
Hello, Mom!
Visual Vexations
Visual Vexations
my brother and I
wonder still: were
Mom’s Lewy Body Dementia
confusions visual
distortions or hallucinations?
She saw a little boy in an
orange shirt sitting all alone
at the storefront and worried
about his safety.
We saw a pumpkin.
She saw strange men with
bunches of bananas
under the carport.
We saw family members
building her a wheelchair
ramp with Dewalt power tools.
She heard voices playing
tricks on her. We heard
branches scratching
the shutters in the wind.
Still, we wonder what she
would see now.
Would she know we are
her children, making our
way through this carnival
funhouse with all these
distorting mirrors
of the complex
and the concave,
wondering, too,
what things are?
All This Pain
the closest we
ever got to a
rainbow was a
peacock feather
the day the two
went to Noah’s Ark
to look for things
to discover
to wonder about
I didn’t feel like
that kind of mother
who says a prayer
and leaves it in
the lap of Jesus
without worry
I was more
the warrior type
praying everyday
hoping all the
nickels would add
up to be worth a miracle
I knew in the back
of my mind when I
saw the Cheshire Cat
smile
Common Threads 