Shorts Page SIX

Feeding the Multitudes (a haibun)

We're holed up in a deserted anchorage area near the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. Roaring winds have stirred up high waves, preventing us from venturing out in our 22 footer to reach the next populated harbor. We're low on food so I set out our crab trap and hope. By mid-afternoon I have one small crab.

At the end of the day a powerboat rushes into the anchorage. We hail them, then row over. The two men aboard are bringing the boat down to Florida and hoped to Get to the next harbor, also. They have no food at all so we invite them over to eat. I boil the crab, pick it clean, dump in our last two cans of vegetables and a can of tomatoes. Heated up almost-stale bread tops off the meal. We devour it,


a rocking moon
deep in the dark sky
a loon's call


hunter's moon
the bald children laugh
at a clown


waiting room-
coffee gone cold
in his hand

Published in Pulse, 2014

crabs skitter
across the chilly beach...
that Maine weekend
when we raced for the bed
in haste to renew old lust


the screech
of an unseen bird
heart fluttering
I wake to those things
that will or won't be again



dialing
your old number
mother
how I want to tell you
what happened yesterday


blackbird
already in flight
the worst part
is not being able to say
words he'll now never hear

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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chemo drip
he shares memories
of Vietnam

dawn
so pink in the pines
my window
a dream portal home
for you always you



cloaked by clouds
that morphine moon
his essence
slip-slides each night
back to Vietnam


a falling tide sucks at the shoreline
they speak
about war days now lost
to the tug of time.

published in cattails spring 2015

nightmares
piggyback my waves
of scattered sleep -
past ghosts back to haunt
chains dragging


imprisoned
in this silent house
stars 
once wrote love songs 
into every footstep

rooster-
breaking the morning light
cocky with love
he nuzzles me again
in night's fade


footprints fade
into the crow's shadow
so quickly
his face is here
then gone

sandpipers flee
north for the summer
i release
the lines that bind my heart
too closely to you

cattails, fall issue 2014

secrets
locked in Pandora's Box
you say
'things are complicated',
in your vague last email