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Open Door Magazine, March 2022

 

It’s cold in Ukraine this time of year

 

 winter

my favorite season

 

6,000 miles away

curled up in bed

my cat

by my side

sharing warmth

 

thinking of you

 

stranded

frightened

dying

 

a million flee

the lucky ones

 

we see pictures

buildings bombed

 

a man in the train station holds his cat

his pain my pain

 

turning away

it lingers

 

the inexplicable brutality

the horror

do not escape me

are not lost on me

 

I imagine you in the cold morning

boots cut through the thin layer of ice that formed on sidewalks overnight

 

running

 

your footsteps

my footsteps

 

‘til thoughts

feelings

overwhelm

 

I step aside

let you pass

 

post sunflowers

share images of blue and yellow flags

crawl back under the covers

-

Proceeds from the March 2022 Open Door anthology (Ukraine and Footsteps) went towards Sunflower of Peace to provide first aid backpacks for first responders on the front lines in Ukraine.

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Close Up: Poems on Cancer, Grief, Hope, and Healing, October 2022
Orchard Lea Press


 

A Good Fish

 

 mc was a good fish.

He lived alone in a tank with a big hunk of wood

and a device that made bubbles

and he ate store-bought fish pellets twice a day.

Mittens liked to eat his food and watch him swim.

Sometimes she'd put her front leg (her arm, to me) into the tank up to the shoulder to try to reach him.

A cat that comes to the call, "Wanna feed the fish?"

mc died today.

Poe and I put him in a tiny box and took him to the field, dug a hole with a stick and buried him.

We told him he was a good fish and we hoped he'd been happy.

Poe said she'd get me another fish.

A better fish, she said.

What could be better than mc, I thought?

Poe said my new fish will be blue.

She said we’ll name him squared.

-

Proceeds from sales of this anthology will be donated to Cancer Council Australia and Cancer Research UK.

Nova Bards 2022
 

How Could Anyone Know

 

 

I saved all the letters you sent me

old postcards from faraway places    

found rummaging around in junk stores

 

one of my favorites

faded blue ink

looping, schoolteacher handwriting —

 

Dearest Edward,

The weather is lovely.

Last night we had crabs for dinner!

Beatrice is learning to swim.

Wish you were here.

Love, Dorothy

 

I knew it was from you

just like you knew who sent that subscription to Model Railroader

you had no trains

 

we were so clever

filled with the angst of youth

yet barely a care in the world

 

but we didn’t know that then

nor did we know

how could anyone know

 

that one day

there would be no more letters

no more postcards

 

and life would go on

 

a Buddhist teacher said keep the heart open

love in death as we did in life

 

I try

I really try

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