Waking up this way, after a short period of time is the worst. I can feel my body on alert, and I struggle to find a FRAME of reference that will help me invite SLEEP back in. The noise from the Piazza doesn’t help, and I try not to fret about when QUIET will finally descend. I try not to WIDEN my ranging thoughts — to not imagine the varied social interactions below. Alas, my efforts are thwarted by the voices of flirtation. They float into the window, and a roar follows, as if the hunt is on. I shut my eyes and am immediately flooded with scenes of the chase– a VIXEN being run to ground by a pack of snuffling hounds. I try to work with what my mind has GIVEN me, deepening my breath, focusing on the details of green fields and blue skies. My mind twists about and I see the fox trick the hounds. Clever beast, running into safety… My mind releases, my body heavy, sweet rest ensues.

Georg’ann

Little feet play CHASE with waves, skipping
squeals of delight ERUPT
as cold foam washes over their tiny toes.

The sea is moving in all directions, riptides.
No steady rhythm or line as it comes forward,
then retreats into itself, pulling and pushing.

Playful water that rolls across the sand tickling toes,
is the same water crashing against the cliffs enclosing the cove.

Above the spray a lone fisherman stands
with perched sea birds, braced against the wind.
Pole bends in a long arc, releases, the line comes up empty.

Craggy rock man, WIELD your pole cautiously.
Today nothing will be GIVEN easily.

Heather

By the WATER
ROUND and through
The meadow
A band of goats
That FRISK and frolic
A sight sure to turn
A SMIRK to a smile

Georg’ann

I thought we’d moved to a place
where we could peacefully COAST,
no more tumult or deception.
How effortlessly one re-enters the SPIRE.
Circling the inner most curves,
tightening at the taper, descending
into the narrowest of spaces, squeezed.
Effortlessly you SHIRK responsibility, restraint.
Standing in the spotlight, lips curl in a SMIRK.
Mocking my disappointment, again
failing to comprehend the spiral.

Heather

I BRING the evidence bag closer, making sure it is out of REACH of my new partner. We have not been working together very long, and I don’t know what his technique is. I am missing my past partner – we had developed an understanding and could count on one another to be thorough. We had the same methodical approach when we started on a case. In fact, we would be able to SCOUR a scene silently, communicating with a raised eyebrow or a gesture. It will take time for the new guy and I to get connected. I didn’t mean to seem like a jerk by hoarding the bag. But it did OCCUR to me that it was better to risk offending him rather than have things go sour with the case from the start. We can work out the interpersonal stuff later.

Georg’ann

On what can we COUNT?
Our POUCH is almost empty,
will magic OCCUR?

Heather

Trust me, a bit of TWINE is all this needs. I BOAST not, really: I can fix anything. Hand me that busted drawer, the chair with a broken back. Why, with a little ingenuity and patience, I can fix the drawer or set any chair SPLAT right.

Georg’ann

The catering kitchen energy is MANIC.
Everyone moving in a fantastic choreography.
My solo is to PLATE grand mariner cheesecake.
Every slice requires a clean knife blade,
continuous cut, wipe, cut, wipe, cut, wipe
APTLY spreading sweet rich goo on everything-
dish towels, napkins, apron, sleeves, pant legs.
Globs fall, hitting the floor with a SPLAT.
By the end of the frenzy, I am covered.
As is the entire area around me, dangerously so.
What started divinely delicious became a source
of disgust, a dessert that still causes me to recoil.

Heather

Space of DEATH
In the BELLY of pain
A PENNY in the poor box
May the gods have
MERCY on us all

Georg’ann

Give warm apple CRISP
Friends on ROCKY path through grief
MERCY in small gifts

Heather

Oh delightful moment:
FLIRT with the VALET!
Sneak behind the PLANT–
Steal a kiss…
Be fully in this ADULT body:
Sensual,
Glorious,
Grown-up vitality.

Georg’ann

“SAINT of small favors,
A QUART of milk, pretty please.
ADULT in need here.”

Heather

It was an image for the ages: how Nanny sat, as if ABOVE the fray. She was a STAID one, stoic and almost grim. What would have brought a smile to a normal person’s face, say the sight of little bums bopping about with a tangling CRAWL underfoot, brought little or no reaction to her face. To be FRANK, she would never have taken this position if she had known what it entailed. The children’s guardian, who they called with affection GRAMP, had been so desperate for help, that he overrode his concerns. It was not so much her dour demeanor. But really her lack of imagination that saddened everyone. She relied on rules and structure, even going so far as to keep a GRAPH for each part of the children’s lives. She tracked and charted behaviors, school work, and social activities. Years later, Mary Jane, who had been one of the tots crawling by Nanny’s feet, finally understood why she had had panic attacks when graphs were first introduced in school. Having had her entire young life stretched and mapped across countless x and y axes, the mere sight of the gridded paper was enough to have her break out into a cold sweat.

Georg’ann

Today the Soul Writer’s took on the ACORN, 
as a FRAME for exploring. Seasonal
GRAVY of a metaphor, almost cliché. 
Resisting a tired attempt at profundity
about mighty oaks, I wrote of squirrels. 
Comic relief from a day of too much thought.
Images of body bags, children crying, rubble and despair. 

Let me lose myself in the sound of squirrels
galloping across the roof. 
Jumping onto the bird feeder, frenzied
not even stopping for a nibble. 
Down the pole, over the GRASS, up a tree, jump to the fence,
gracefully scamper along, thrusting upward,
a huge leap across the alley,
catching the wire on the other side,
brief run before another leap onto a low branch,
then disappearing except for rustling leaves. 

Watching the acrobatics I am convinced 
squirrel watching was the impetus for parkour.
Someone carefully plotting angles on a GRAPH before jettisoning their own bodies in rapid motion. 
On, off, over, against, up, down, spin, and thrust
as if there were no laws of motion, no limits. 

And now I wonder was it a spider that inspired rock climbing?
Moving the desire to pursue, to scale heights 
into a belief of possibility, tethered
by nothing more than a single line
and the steady persistence of delicate limbs grasping.

Heather

You are my bowl of PASTA
The olio to my aglio
I wouldn’t TRADE you
For all the penne in Italy
You are my Parmigiano
Your love is not a CHEAT
No cheap cheese in a green can
Who needs an active ingredient,
A protein powder, or
A saccharine fake sugar
You are a direct AGENT
My nourishing delicious love

Georg’ann

BREAK apart hard soil
warm hands AMEND, they become
nourishing AGENT

Heather

So glad we FOUND a way to UNITE with the help of our UNCLE. It is not good to have a family torn apart, especially over the Christmas pudding. It was a story that had been told over and over again, only now, it could have a happy ending.

Georg’ann

Small bird clings to vine
POISE on wobbling branch, resting
on CRATE, UNCLE laughs.

Heather

Upend the pot and there you are:
GREAT shell, feelers out
Tucked in, protected
From rainy or BALMY days
I watch and wonder:
So slow in your movement,
I pin steadiness on you,
Attribute determination
But perhaps, you SLACK and shirk
Indeed, why assume virtue or vice?
Let me allow you to simply be
What you are– a SNAIL

Georg’ann

Listen, sirens wail
outside, PAUSE motion on STAIR
notice SNAIL moves slow

Heather

“Sir, you should come take a look at this.” The detective raised his head, and looked ABOUT, trying to locate the speaker. He was new to the force and still had trouble telling some of the team apart. “Ah, what is it, Mulvaney?” Coming to stand beside the young officer, he didn’t really need an answer: an old-fashioned TUNER. It was on the floor and some parts looked broken. “Hm, looks mid-century – probably a Grundig. At least this tells us something about the victim – and perhaps what the murderer was looking for. Any other evidence of what happened?” Walking away with the rest of his team, the detective felt bowed down and heavy. The pressure to uncover the TRUTH was almost unbearable at the start of case, when there were too many possibilities and uncertainties.

Georg’ann

SPEAK as if you were part of the CHOIR,
with a clear voice thoughts fill the air,
a song in no HURRY to end.
Let your TRUTH be an aria,

Heather

It is evening. I am in my customary spot, at the kitchen counter. Knife in hand, I allow my mind to wander, following first one TRAIN of thought and then another. It helps me, as I continue to MINCE the onion, to settle into a meditative rhythm. I find this to be restorative, restful even, the movement soothing any irritability or frustrations from the day. I am able to avoid a SINGE or a burn, a drop or a break: I remain present in the moment. After a neverending BINGE of news and notifications, emails and postings, this routine is essential to my well-being. A daily practice that I keep, as faithful as any monk in a monastery.

Georg’ann

A new season has arrived.
Yesterday the wind took a WALTZ through the trees,
sending leaves swirling in dances of their own.
Watching the performance requires no ticket, no MONEY.
We sat on a park BENCH enjoying theater in the round.
Eventually the air turned chilly.
We made our way home, curling up on the couch,
settling in for a Masterpiece Theater BINGE.
An ease to the day, enveloped in soft moments.

Heather

Curled up in my favorite armchair, I consider my latest pile of books from the library. Falling into a story sounds perfect right now. But which book will I read? One of my favorite strategies is to read the first sentence or two, and then pick.

And so, the first: “Clinging to the shrouds, Spry Jim shouted, ‘Hey ho! A PILOT whale off portside!’ There was a flurry of action below. They had been at sea for what felt like an eternity. And if the one whale turned into more, then this godforsaken voyage would not be a total waste.”

Now, the second: “It was a rainy, grim night. The city streets were mostly deserted, and Julia just needed to find a dry place to wet her whistle. Drawing her coat a little tighter, she pushes into the next available café. As she looks for a seat, she notices a table with a group of very striking men, heavy-lidded and golden-haired, looking like a group of LIONS plotting to take over the world.”

And finally, “‘Really, Thomas, I must go.” His reply was to press a single fragile flower into her hand, closing her fingers around it. Gently, he bent over her hand, pressing his lips to her wrist, warm against her cool skin. As he turned and walked away, she opened her hand, gasping when she saw the crushed purple of a small
VIOLA bloom. How had he known?”
A happy sigh, as I decide to follow Julia into the café, wondering what will follow, surrendering to the magic of reading.

Georg’ann

Around this time of year, memories of that long ago weekend still HAUNT me, the ghost of something beautiful that died too quickly. I was not myself in any way I’d known myself before, intoxicated with lust; exhilarated and fully present in my body for the first time since I was a child dancing alone in my room for hours, completely free.

Perhaps not surprising then that it was dancing that started our weekend, a local festival with multiple venues, crowded tents full of pulsing beats and bodies. Moving into the streets, energized at 2 am. You’d SWEAR it was a movie set, everyone animated. You were wearing a PLAID flannel shirt. There to enjoy, not to impress.

We went for a drink, meandering conversation, nothing spoken mattered. Though I do remember you telling me eyelashes are a form of CILIA and us laughing about seductively batting one’s cilia, and then playfully blinking our eyes in various flirty ways.

Later we went back to your VILLA where you gave me figs and crackers to eat while you played the VIOLA with your whole body, slowly caressing the strings with the bow. My own taut body began to quiver, my voice making a music I’d never heard it express.

Heather

Her HEART sank. She had retraced her steps, had even thought to SHINE a flashlight along the path. But no luck. Her necklace seemed truly and completely lost. And now, she could hear the CHIME of the village clock, signalling the need to head home. How would she explain to her family that the pearls were gone?

Georg’ann

Outside overlooking the city below, it was hard to believe we’d managed to get together, given the brief overlap in schedules, yet here we sat together in the same place after years of trying to come together.

The hostess, sounding authentically welcoming, came out to the patio and called, “Calabria, PARTY of 9.”
We rose to follow her, weaving in and around the crowded, bustling dining room to a semi secluded booth in the back- that place just between the busing station and the restroom hall. Clear advantages and disadvantages to this particular spot.

All proceeded as expected. Water glasses filled, conversational banter about the menu and whatnot continued as decisions were being made. Arrival of a crisp white wine came first, served with polenta toasts and Gorgonzola. As we reached a point of satisfaction, out came the main course, a huge MOUND of spaghetti served family style.

Watching everyone swirl and slurp the long pasta strands with gusto brought a SMILE to my lips. The scene was boisterous delight, so much more than I’d hoped for. In a spontaneous burst I clinked my glass as if it were a CHIME, ready to make a toast. Everyone paused mid motion, silence fell as all attention was turned to me. With tears in my eyes, there was nothing to say. Everyone understood. We held the moment suspended, a scene stop, and then continued the buoyant commotion.

Heather

Vera was fidgeting with a bit of TWINE. Her long hair recently SHORN, she looked a little vulnerable. Like maybe new school year plus new hair was just a little too much. On a HUNCH, Vera had saved a place at the LUNCH table for her best friend, Paul. Where was he? She really hoped that she and Pauly had the same lunch period. Opening her bag, she pulled out some carrots and sighed. The noise of the cafeteria was ramping up and she felt like a little lonely island. Just when she wanted hide from all these faces and noise, a thump made her look up: Paul sat down. He took one look at the carrots and snorted. “Got those nasty baby ones again, huh?” Vera waved one at him, saying in a mock announcer’s voice, “Bunny bites: the favorite of rabbits and children alike. Have a MUNCH and you’ll be right as PUNCH. Don’t delay, grab a BUNCH today!” Paul rolled his eyes, “lucky for you, I am going to
ignore that bit of rubbish and focus on my very excellent peanut butter sandwich. Wait – do you have pimento cheese? Trade you!” Vera just grinned

Georg’ann

As a very small child, Heidi liked to get up early, grab provisions, and head out the front door for adventure. When her mother woke she often FOUND a trail that lead her directly to her darling daughter, still in footed pjs or a cozy nightshirt, gazing at bugs up close or making potions out of weeds and puddle water in the mostly near vicinity of their house.

Occasionally Brenda was unsettled by the distances Heidi traveled. She had a disquieting HUNCH that a 4 year old roaming the neighborhood didn’t reflect well on her parenting.

Luckily Heidi liked to MUNCH dry cereal right out of the box. Her puffy little hands could not hold much and with every bit that made it to her mouth, there was a BUNCH that fell to the floor, the steps, the sidewalk, thus making her easy to track. Whenever Brenda located Heidi she always asked about whatever it was she was doing, and then would take Heidi’s hand and suggest they go home for a proper breakfast.

There was no thought of attempting to thwart Heidi’s early rising explorations anymore than there was an expectation that Brenda should manage to wake in time to provide parental oversight of some kind.

The gift of Brenda’s parenting style, if one cared to give it that generous a characterization, was that it allowed them each to be their own person, to enjoy their own habits. Heidi learned the gift of independence, exploration, capability.

In later years she struggled a bit in partnerships, being somewhat laissez faire in tending to details of accountability. The freedoms she expected and allowed were often taken as disinterest, to which she could only respond with a childlike sense of bewilderment.

Heather

She really struggled to LEARN how to play tennis. On the COURT, she just couldn’t figure out how to get that extra SPURT of energy she needed to win.

Georg’ann

#1
STACK of papers
STACK of books
STACK the wood
STACK against
STACK of pancakes-
a short STACK
with SPURT of syrup,
for SPURT of energy.

#2
Words STACK against,
nothing inside to SPURT forth.

Heather

I COULD wait passively for the pharmacy to send me text: “your prescription for X is ready for pickup.” But it’s already been a week, and I am no longer optimistic that the system is working. I decided to BRAVE the madness and give a little shove to the automated system. “Should I tell the pharmacy you are on your way?” asks the automated voice. “Say yes or press one.” I press one, and then make it real: I drive to the pharmacy. I show up; I have kept my promise. Upon arrival, I see a veritable mountain of filled prescriptions, as if an army of doctors have decided the best way to lay siege to illness is to REFER to this one pharmacy. (Which I suppose is sort of true). Mine is not among them. Rather, as I suspected, my prescription is “in process.” I settle into the seat provided for those who wait. I listen to the piped in music that invites me to view this whole process as a MERRY
adventure where my true love will await me forever. I sigh and watch the crumbling of our world, where dysfunction prevails and “you will still be mine” pulses to a beat over it all.

Georg’ann

As the plans take shape,
resistance begins to ARISE
like a noxious vapor.
I feel myself sinking, heavy
no energy to EXERT.
Arise, sink
Expand, collapse
Like dough
Like breath

And there it is, the recognition
as sweet and satisfying as that
single BERRY beneath the leaf.
Polarity is how we’re designed.

We’ll go, I can make MERRY,
even as everything in me wants to retreat into solitude.
It is possible, in fact essential, to do both simultaneously.
This is the way I inhabit self
This is the way
This is the way
This is the way
Breathing full bellow breaths
This is the way

Heather

To SHARE a cozy spot,
To REVEL in a tiny gesture,
A slight adjustment to a BERET:
The sweetness of new love

Georg’ann

THICK slices of eggplant generously sprinkled with salt
sit on paper towels beginning their SWEAT.
While waiting for them to release excess moisture
I pull out on old photo album
the 1989 overseas study in Dijon, France.
Pages of picnics, canals, windows,
gardens, grey cows, fountains, stained glass,
chateau after chateau, a train DEPOT.
Laughing, dancing, traveling
with people I’ll never see again.

The last page, return visit at my mother’s.
There’s a softness in these pictures, a slight blur on everything,
as the sunlight moves through the airy curtains
reflects on the hardwood floors. Sparsely furnished
my brother sits on a small creaky armless rocking chair.
He’s 8, so joyous this day. Sister home, kitten in his lap.
Child’s beaming face with an impish grin, twinkling eyes.
Resting on brown curls, a perfectly cocked black BERET.

Heather

Sitting, QUIET at last, I stroke your hair. What a
CHAMP you have been through this whole thing – it’s not easy to be 3 and traveling. After a very fretful few moments that felt like hours, you have finally been able to CRASH. I avoid the eyes of the other passengers, trying to blot out their existence and the awareness that we are in tin box over the Atlantic. Curling around you, I make the most of our cramped COACH seats. It would be good to sleep before we land in O’Hare.

Georg’ann

Marilyn was in a quandary. Should she VOICE her opinion? She’d been wrestling with it all day. She didn’t want to BOTCH the project, screw the POOCH as they say. She had a sense that the concept they wanted to pitch wouldn’t land well. And yet knew if she said something the entire team would turn on her. They really liked their concept. Sitting on the COUCH, she tried to remember what she’d learned from that leadership COACH she’d worked with years ago, but nothing helpful came to mind.

She decided to call her friend Lynda, who sometimes helped resolve indecision by consulting with her pendulum on Marilyn’s behalf. It was an avenue to try, the circling stone on a chain would at least temporarily cease the circling of thoughts in her head.

Heather

I hustle down the steps
Search above and BELOW
Shove aside all the mail “ELECT me” “Buy this”
A glance at my watch
Causes me to LIVEN my step
An AGILE sweep through the room
At last! With a SMILE
I claim them:
My keys!

Georg’ann

Bringing the WHOLE family together
was like navigating Escher’s Relativity.
At first glance a simple series of steps
coming from different directions.
Quickly it becomes clear
no ANGLE will align with another.
Everyone on their own plane,
starting from their own reality.
We CYCLE through plan after plan
puzzling, certain there is a solution
so at least a few arrive in the same place
at the same time, if only for brief connection.
Finally we see, impossibility is the way it’s drawn
in black and white, a fantastical conception.
I sigh, then SMILE, Absurdity is the art we live.

Heather

It was with a sense of new beginning, a new LEASE on life as the saying goes,that she buckled down to the hard, focused LABOR of starting her own restaurant. She planned to use only LOCAL resources for this endeavor, hoping to generate a LOYAL and committed customer base. It made her both giddy and terrified to get started.

Georg’ann

Driving to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, we stopped for lunch at a little restaurant just off the highway, about 20 minutes north, called The WHOLE Enchilada. SOLID fare, a LOCAL favorite.

My little sister, 23 years my junior and age 9 at the time, could not eat all of her meal. With matter of fact earnestness she asked the waiter to keep the leftovers stored in the refrigerator until we passed back by on our way home. The request was honored, of course. Who could possibly resist such a sincere and assured child?

After a day of being mesmerized by swaying kelp, delighted by sea otters, fascinated by innumerable sea creatures, and intrigued by the many patterns in the LORAL regions of numerous seabirds we made our way back to the restaurant where Kira was given her styrofoam box of chicken nachos to finish when she wished.

To this day my sister remains LOYAL to her values, never hesitating to make common sense requests in situations where simple solutions are rarely sought. No one can resist the direct look of her light aqua eyes or her velvety voice speaking with disarming confidence, so innocent and yet so wise.

Heather

ALLOW me, please, a PROUD moment as I hold FORTH about my dears, my family who have had the MOXIE to stand up and fight to make the world a better place. Each has hit more than one ROCKY moment, and yet, has persevered. I adore them, I appreciate them, I strive to be their equal in commitment and creativity. My heart is full and I love you all.

Georg’ann

When I was 12, I had a paper ROUTE. Heavy canvas bag slung over my shoulder. I’d march up the steep hill on Allen Street about half a mile away to the small apartment complex that was my exclusive territory.

My husband also had a paper route around the same age, though in a different decade and a different state, that took him up a steep hill. He rode through the neighborhood throwing papers from his bike.

Come collection day, I regularly used my profits to buy ROCKY road ice cream for myself and the neighbors. Carlos used his to buy milkshakes for his friends.

Though we were years apart in age, traveling up and down different hills, with different stories, we were destined I suppose. Forever bonded by a love of ice cream, keeping up with the news, and a tendency to spend our last pennies on some generous indulgence rather than saving them for a rainy day.

Heather

Settling down at the table, cozy and ready to dream a little, he pulled out the maps he had been collecting. He hoped it would make a WHALE of a tale, one to last the whole winter: a trip alone with his faithful HOUND at his side, setting out to hike in the White Mountains. His goal was a week, with a plan to PITCH a tent each night, carrying everything he and the dog would need for the whole journey. It would be a TIGHT schedule, given how close it would be to the first snows. But if he planned well and kept the goal in SIGHT, the timing should be RIGHT.

Georg’ann

Watching Women Talking

In a few simple lines the WHOLE story was exquisitely limned.
Sparse set, cinematography, and pacing were an elegant MATCH
for the PITHY prose spoken, or emotions wordlessly conveyed.
Every cast member moment an artistic achievement.
Layers of subtleties and detail pulled the viewer in, palpable.
We felt TIGHT in our chest, holding our breath
especially anticipating the final FIGHT.
Building, oh so RIGHT, of the final scene –
rendering arc, the pain and promise of exodus.

Heather

Looking out at the window, I shrugged off the FLAKE or two that was falling. And so I stayed working at the library until closing time. Stepping out, head full of research and thoughts of the future, I paid little attention to the sidewalk. “Oh my!” I exclaimed, caught unawares by the slickness of wet snow. I threw my arms out and caught a man by surprise. He instinctively grabbed me, encircling my waist as neatly as a well-flung LASSO. Embarrassed and more than a little confused, spewing forth apologies, I raised my head to what must have been one of the most beautiful beings on Earth. And what’s more, he seemed the very definition of VALOR – instincts causing him to spring into action. But before dear Reader, you turn this into some cute-meet scene, indeed, the perfect winter romance, (hot cocoa and invitations to
CAROL through the neighborhood not optional!), let me hasten to explain that this was in fact my younger brother who had come to pick me up. He just didn’t know he was going to do so in such a literal fashion. “You should really pay more attention, sis. But hey, nice Moro reflex you got there!” “Thanks,” I said, ruffling my feathers back into place, so to speak and continuing with, “where’s the car parked?”

Georg’ann

Sitting side by side on the metal mesh picnic table,
silence, after layers of conversation.
We marvel at the quality of the late summer LIGHT
limning the marshy plants with rose gold.
A flock of geese floating on the water.
Out of the trees across the inlet
we watch a bald eagle PLANE
toward the causeway, then flap mighty wings,
lifting skyward, disappearing beyond the dam
at the far end of the lake.

A metaphoric flight of relinquishing, accepting,
moving with grace, into the great beyond
The death flight of which we’ve been talking

No words spoken as our attentions turn
to the bright colors in the SALAD
harkening us back to times fresh and crisp.
day waning
season waning
life waning

Too soon the season of darkness will be upon us.
What CAROL will be sung in the evergreen
boughs of sorrow, flanking the sanctuary.

Heather

Leaning in close, I could see that what appeared to be the LEAST STONE in the tiara was, in fact, quite rare. That’s when the idea began to take shape, all based on this blue diamond.

Georg’ann

Yearning for a RAINY day
to stay swaddled in cozy covers,
the room and me so still
Listening to the SOUND
of patters on the roof
and purring by my side.
The scent of a warm SCONE,
baked with a STONE fruit,
peach or plum, wafting
without having to rise
and make them myself.
This is my magic wish
slow weighted rest,
some sweet tender crumb,
outer and inner worlds
cleansed by morning rain.

Heather

Quick, FLASH the light
Now, STAMP your feet
Three times to the left,
Three times to the right
We SCARE the goblins
We SNARE the pixies
In the still of the night

Georg’ann

Damnit, she’d done it again. Taken the bait, felt the tug, and then the piercing of the hook. No escape possible, just the desperate thrashing.

Now, hours later, Helen stood at the kitchen counter BLOWN away by her inability to navigate the oh so familiar waters. Compulsively eating tortilla chips dipped in a mix of salsa and RANCH dressing, she marveled at the level of ANGER that came so quickly, how perfectly placed the SNARE.

Heather

To TRADE
HOUSE in charming Midwestern college town for apartment in Paris. Prefer location on left bank, CLOSE to Jardin du Luxembourg.

Georg’ann

Children LAUGH, whoosh, splash
delight on creek bed SLIME slope
Kept CLOSE in heart space

Heather

I am not READY. That much is clear to me, this thing that cuts me like a SHARP knife – wait, no, that’s not it – it’s more like the exquisitely painful paper cut. The kind that takes you by surprise, that you didn’t see coming as you moved swiftly and thoughtlessly, shuffling what you had considered to be a harmless set of papers.

I am not prepared. Not to feel this creeping sense of being FRAIL, of a heaviness in my heart, the careening forward of time towards its inevitable end.

Who can be ready for the unknown? What sort of preparation is even possible when the path is not clear? FRANK, careful assessment and planning will get me only so far.

I reach for you. These dark thoughts in the dark night are isolating. The paradox asserts itself yet again: this, the most alone thing I will ever do can only be faced by not being alone.

I turn and drape my arm over you, feeling your breath. I yield, welcoming sleep, safe at last.

Georg’ann

When I marvel at softness it reminds me
of what it means to be brittle,
how easy it is to BREAK,
how easy to CRACK
and so difficult to yield.
What would it mean to move with, not against?
To step aside,
to make room,
to cushion the fall,
to part like water.

To part like water,
to hold like water
to flow like water
to steep like water
Slowly smoothing with a softness
strong enough to find its way through rock.

When I marvel at softness I’m greeted with paradox.
The essence of a Taoist PRANK,
though one that will FRANK safe passage.

When I marvel at softness I break open.

Heather

We sit around the fire,
A circle of tired faces.
We SHARE a charred bit of this,
An undercooked slice of that.
After, our hands are busy:
You TWIST and knot ropes,
I take up a needle to mend a hole
We tell tales of BISON we never saw;
We speak of love lost or cherished
And sometimes both.
We sing, finding MUSIC
To be like honey,
Making this cowboy’s life a little sweeter.

Georg’ann

YOUTH, it goes too QUICK.
I miss it with my child,
with all the children in my life.
Just that sentence written
memories roll through me like marbles.
Each beautiful, shimmering ball a portal
to the full experience, magical
like a Willy Wonka chocolate.

Sitting here at my table, so tired.
Am I conscious?
Every word coming from something
akin to LUCID dreaming.
If thoughts were a spice mine would be CUMIN,
earthy and complex, just a bit gritty.
Tonight no more MUSIC, please.
Any sound too much stimulus.
The marbles have found their resting place.
And so must I.

Heather