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poetry issues #21

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Friday, 25 January 2019

A very special labor, the January-February issue. I hope you enjoy stories of identity and struggle:

 

Scales

 

Better watch people

from afar, like big cities.

Admire their beauty

from a distance and avoid

touching their fences.

 

On Saturn I'd be

five kilos less and that's what

matters more in this

floating universe where not

a thing weighs more than I.

 

 

Family Gatherings

 

All children wanted to be men

and no one cared to pick

homegrown rosemary and dill

for the women in the kitchen.

 

The boys came in pairs to steal

little cheese pies, then went on

with their precious outdoor life

of playing football and riding bikes.

 

The girls feared nothing more

than becoming their mothers

with lives spent over lemons

and eggs in hot fish soups.

 

We didn’t know then that kitchens

held so many secrets, far more

steaming than backyard politics.

Women have been always winning.

 

 

Breathe

 

The crashing density  the stuffy thoughts

Of asthmatic lungs      gulping

The fake air               with greed

Everyone is trying

To grasp                   what they can

An old woman's         out of luck

Girlish games

Tired pigtails             unwashed

Nicotine and coffee    but

Without infatuation

The earth is flat         just

Give me oxygen

 

 

I'll Play it Cool

 

Every time

you want to hurt me

you twist your tongue

to warm it up

before it hits me

with whip-like speed.

 

I was never fast

with words and now

your gun of a finger

is pointing at me.

I will remain silent.

You cannot win.

 

The Duck Painting

 

It’s hard to tell if it is monochrome

or just faded into a pale delft blue

and why it's hanging in the living room

in this furnished simulation of some

home. I’ll change it – a lasting addition

in the long list of intentions. I start

counting the ducks but get distracted

by the frame. Gold and metallic and

more eighties than my mother. She

had one that looked the same. So,

there’s a faint reminder of who I am.

You find strange ways to connect

when life is condensed to a trolley bag.

 

 [You will learn more about the Poetry Issues project here.]

 

 
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