THE WOMEN gather under the trees.
They bring gifts, food, and chairs.
They are gypsies and queens, oracles, saints,
Jezebels and jesters, healers, sages, and warriors.
And when the circle is complete, the magic begins.
Shyly, with dainty movements, they take turns,
shifting aside their robes to expose
missing limbs and gaping wounds.
The others gather close and peer, heads cocked,
eyes straining, and they chant,
"That is lovely, that is good,"
and the wounds stop weeping,
and they melt into scars,
silvery and light and beautiful.
Then the women lean back and laugh,
and they stretch, sensual and fierce,
like cats in the sun.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Mah Jongg Maven

(For Marie Davis)

She's the Mah Jongg Maven,
leading the way,
bringing friends together,
so they can learn to play.

Her name is Marie,
and she is quite a sight.
She's quick, and she's lively,
and she moves like a sprite.

When she comes into the room,
doing high kicks,
it's hard to believe
that she's almost ninety-six.

Her fingers are long
and so is her hair.
She's got a beautiful smile
and joy to spare.

I'm glad I got to meet her.
I learned a lot today:
in Mah Jongg and in life,
you'll have fun if you just play.
            --Sappho

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