A Dozen Roses

my darling
for our divorce
one dozen rose stems
grab them with a bare hand
like you grabbed my heart

 

For Addicted to Purple

meditation

five years of practice.

my mind finally still

enlightenment finds me

but my heart remains sad

 

For In Other Words

complexity

“It’s a gray area.”

“How is wrong a gray area? Wrong is black, not white.”

“Sometimes wrong should be right. Sometimes what’s right is wrong.”

“For you, it’s all gray.¬† You don’t know what’s right or wrong. For you, it’s all should, not is. Facts are facts. True is true.”

“I don’t believe that and I’m scared. If everything is gray, there’s no contrast. Something bad could be sneaking up on you.”

moon casts no color
gleam of deer eye wide for light
gray shadow gray wolf

 

For Haibun Monday

for a challenge

use calm mind to mute
rough storm of thought and ease
the struggle within

 

For the secret keeper

Haiku Challenge: Character and Affection

vixen leaves the den
in heavy rain bringing a
mouse to her snared cub

 

for Colleen’s Weekly Challenge

Haiku Challenge: Quick and Slip

male mantis slips in
quick and leaves or if too slow
remains for dinner

For RonovanWrites

Foot Binding

Eight-hour filibuster. Four-inch heels.
Three hours to go. Why did I do this?
I felt regal at first. A goddamned queen.
I could see over the lectern. Make eye contact.
Would they respect me in flats?

The short congressmen. They stand on a box.
I blame Frank for this. Frank and his shoes.
Frank and his feet. He’ll rub these feet with warm oil into the night.
And no shoes tomorrow. Maybe the fluffy pink slippers.
The tailor’s bunion. Must get it treated.

These stilettos are shrinking. My toes overlap.
Should have brought a second pair. One size larger.
Two sizes larger. An inch shorter.
After five hours no one cares. I could stand eye to eye with Dinklage.
Look at him. He’s a king or something.

Wendy Davis went thirteen hours. Wendy Davis isn’t seventy-eight.
Wendy Davis wore pink tennis shoes. Then high heels for her Vogue shoot.
Must stop saying “I won’t stand for it.” Must quit calling Republicans “heels.”
Now it’s time for the man with no shoes. Draw it out.
When it’s time for the man with no feet… let out a little sob.

 

…for Poets United Midweek Motif – Shoes