Mongrel Angel

 

A mongrel angel in the dark

who wakes the dogs who start to bark

beneath the yellow windows in the rain

she knows the words and hums the tune

for lonely rabbits on the moon

who wear their pestles on a silver chain

A mongrel angel high at noon

comes uninvited to the room

where holy flunkies serve the business crowd

she knows where all the blossoms bloom

in graveyards where they dust their broom

and common kind is simply not allowed

And the mongrel angel lives halfway from Heaven on her own

like a fish out of the water or a turtle on a stone

A mongrel angel's setting sun

is just like any other one

but dialect of night's a special rhyme

that only dogs and she can hear

a melody of atmosphere

that leaves her breathless every single time

And the mongrel angel lives halfway from Heaven on her own

like a fish out of the water or a turtle on a stone

_____________

for Word Garden Word List--Cat's Cradle

My Back

 

"I got to boogie-woogie like a knife in the back"

My back

was the one I never worried about.

Always cheerful

ready to work with me

believing that a rising tide

lifts all boats.

Oh,

I used Proper Lifting Technique

like it was delivered from the pulpit.

I'd say, back

keep straight

knees

help your sister now.

They complained but pitched in.

Now,

Just the mention of the 

lightest job

sends you running like you stole something.

Part Bartleby

the rest Jive Bombers

you like things easy and over

like an egg

too lazy to get up off the griddle.

Can I

get some help here?

"No ma'am, the couch's got me

caught in its clutches."

Friends smirk.

"That one yours?

The one you always talking up?"

Anymore,

you don't lift nothing heavier'n

a slice of pie.

How

can I be proud?

You can't lug,

but you sure can shrug.

You're as close as my next breath, child

but you broke my heart

like a dropped crystal bowl.

___________

quote with image is from "Sea Cruise"

sung by Frankie Ford

Music: The Jive Bombers Bad Boy

Episodes of Sea and Sky

 

Often,

I sleep on a tightwire

with a balancing pole

rising

falling

like a pair of oars.

Often,

I am busy organizing,

counting, ordering

items

that only

exist in my dreams.

High,

wearing shoes with grooved soles

making my way to a 15th floor window

all  I 

so want

is to get it all down 

on paper and set in boxes.

Awake,

it all reduces in an instant

to pointless nonsense.

Ah me.

Impossible

and silly besides. Sometimes,

someone loved me--they're gone too.

Often,

this splitting of my mind

is like an updraft out of my everyday skin.

My useless

looping tasks

give me purpose, and comfort

and favored faces alongside.

Often,

morning makes off

with these impossible pufferies

and I

rise

but it feels like falling

very fast, from height.

_______

for Word Garden Word List--Let the Right One In. 

 

Music: Bronson Know Me

A Divorce, 2001

 

I don't miss the arguments

or the madness,

the steady harsh hum of discord.

I don't miss hearing the dogs' toenails 

digging against the wood floor

as their sheltered world turned ugly.

I don't miss the eerie sound of

empty accusations

demanding confession of phantom sins.

I don't miss the sound of our son

begging you to stop smashing dishes

when I tried to escape to the bath.

I don't miss the slick drone of lawyers

or the jangle of keys to

homes changing hands. 

But when I sat down to eat

at the same table in a different kitchen

with the windows December-dark,

the silence wool-thick

and the opposite chair mute and empty,

I almost couldn't bear it--

almost couldn't face

the long wait for spring.

______

for What's Going On? -- "Silence"

Note: my divorce set me free, but at the time it was awful. I don't think I've ever written about it quite so baldly before. 

Don't forget, the Word Garden Word List is still active through Sunday!

Music: Gordon Lightfoot if There's a Reason

Fetch

 And now comes my fetch in the mist by the slough

unnoticed by the sheep who eat the bursting sloes.

An unwelcome messenger, my double pale and blue,

to snap the stem that holds my soul and reap what doesn't rot.

I'm an altered, repetitious hag, with just the grave for new,

my breakfast made of river stones and set on plates of ice.

The horse may shed its harness, the ship may shed its crew.

I likewise shed this life entire, and no more question pose,

then--like the laurel root--decay, dissolving where it grew.

_______

for Word Garden Word List #19 (at The Sunday Muse.) 

this poem is a "Magic 9" poem, with rhyme scheme aba cad aba, or "abracadabra" minus the two r's. 

when laurel grows in a swampy area, or "slough", the roots will rot. 

Commuter

 

(dedicated to Howie Mooney)

it figures the bus would be late

fabulous, great

turn on some tunes

hope it comes soon

big meeting, big project today

I'm on my way

I'm prospering

mind wandering

oops, dropped transfer into the street

step off, dead meat

driver slow braker

meet my Maker.

_____

a minute poem for Dverse form poetry.