AUTHENTICITY by Jennifer Lothrigel |
GIVERNY, THE HAPPIEST I EVER WAS
by Viola Weinberg That day, warm and wet autumn Standing under a broad Brown velvet Borsolino hat Hands entwined on the bridge Moments later, we were married Facing each other, I was flabbergasted By the hydrangea behind you You faced the Japanese pond's koi Our friends walked in step With us then, gone now Tourists of all nations surrounding us Garlands of applause and ringing bells Through the satisfied air, big loops of love Gorgeous bonds and voluptuous gardens The stuff of poets dreaming, the heavy Heads of chrysanthemums bowed in prayer |
WILD DATURA by Allyson Seconds |
HAIR TODAY
by P.M.F. Johnson How bright your hair, in the plain morning after you perform your monthly ritual of color, red as long as I remember, though honeying toward blond at times. (You're called to change by some womanly instinct, a visual shading off from the dull, the over-familiar.) It's not hiding the truth, exactly: we all know our place on time's implacable meter. And hate it. I too admit I've raised my shoulder to stave off age's prods, made ale of my failure and shrunk despair into a voodoo doll. But you protect for me the vulnerable spot, the grey, the tender. You make us both tough through shared laughter, heaven's bright stuff. |
GOT AHOLD OF ME by Stephanie Lakos |
TWO CONSTRUCTS OF LOVE
by James B. Nicola The feelings weren't wrong! If I've learned one thing, it's that Feeling isn't something right or wrong, but is what is, in spite of the facts. It is Imagination that errs with its creation. I imagined an open, flowered field's green, welcoming. A place attractive as a thing expansive. Not one where a soul is chained and all one can do is rattle and shout, neither of which produces guard nor key at least that seemed the case with me. That you were in the cell while I was out, I never dreamt. I therefore ask your pardon and ask my Imagination to yield the jail myth for the open field where love need never howl, but grow a garden. |