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.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

My Double-Wide

I'm happy inside
my double-wide.
It's just the right place for me.
Some folks want more,
like a house by the shore,
or a mansion by the sea,
but I'm happy inside
my double-wide.
It's just the right place for me.

I don't try to hide
this double-wide.
I've painted it so you can see
it from outer space,
this bright yellow place,
next to an apple tree.
Yes, I'm happy inside
my double-wide
It's just right for me, you see.


My double-wide
is my joy and my pride.
It's where I want to be.
It's got room enough
to hold all my stuff
and room for my honey and me.
We fit here inside
this double-wide.
It's where I want to be.


          --Sappho
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