G’a:
We checked in, AWARE that there had been a THIEF recently at the HOTEL. In fact, that was one of the reasons we chose that particular place to stay. You see, Johnny has always fancied a chance to be clever and sly, to do something… unusual. And, well, the opportunity to catch the person who had been robbing wealthy guests at the Ritz – that was too tempting to Johnny. Me? I was a long for the ride… And I was to be the bait. I know it is hard to comprehend, but Johnny and me? Let’s just say that we got a kick out of danger.

Georg’ann

There’s a shipping yard
in the MOUTH of the bay
From our window we watch cranes
HOIST cargo onto ships
Night falls, from our HOTEL window
the moon reflected on the water

Heather

Stepping towards the body, Detective O’Brien asks if the victim was ALIVE when thrown into the river. I had had very little SLEEP, and was braced for a questioning of my competence. The Detective has opinions about women handling dead bodies, and my years of experience (not to mention the locations) did little to wipe the sneer off his face. Reminding myself that I would gain nothing from returning hostility with hostility, I straightened up and motioned him to a quieter spot. “Yes, Detective, the victim shows signs that they were dead before entering the water. We should have a full toxicology report to compare with the other victims.” He nodded, accepting for once, that I knew what I was doing.

My mind started to drift. I was so tired I could hardly stand. We were behind an apartment building, and the sounds of someone’s television floated down to us. Sounded like a comedian, profane by the frequency of the BLEEP erasing offensive language. I caught myself staring at nothing in particular, almost missing what the Detective was saying. I knew that no words could be as obscene as the violence we stood beside.

Georg’ann

Sitting in a small robin’s egg blue chair, lower legs splayed right and left
from knees resting together
trying to fit at a child’s desk
as conversations muffle through the walls.
I have access to a lovely workspace,
sophisticated with right sized furniture,
yet often I prefer being here
closer to the GROUP, perhaps
or more likely the way this interior room holds a fuller spectrum of my development
starting with the sense of security that comes from being in spaces just a bit too small
Mindlessly moving fingers across my SCALP
searching for sensation
as I listen to words from next door getting louder
and more distinct,
some I’d like to BLEEP,
These distinct intonations, mark time here
It must be Thursday coming to its close
I smile in recognition of the rhythms created by faceless strangers,
known to me only as names and story fragments
in this place I opened

Heather

I doodle idly in the margins, reading over what I WROTE. Considering a word choice, a nuance here, now there. Stopping to focus on the feel of my pen, I TWIRL it between my fingers. I go through my thoughts, like shuffling through STRAW on the barn floor, watching dust motes and chaff float and dance in the sunlight.

Georg’ann

My daily alarm is the movement of a cat
from behind my legs,
where she has slept uncovered
a paw pats repeatedly
at the blankets, a request for entry
In a dreamy state I lift them and in she goes.
I ADORE the warm softness as she circles and settles
into the curve of my torso
her motor running loudly.
Eventually she pokes her head out,
jumps down with a thump
then I reach for the phone to begin
the day’s word play
Previous attempts line up on a GRAPH
each one a marker of connections
this game has set in motion
Like STRAW spun into gold

Heather

At the FEAST, I was shocked to see there, PRONE on the floor, ruefully rubbing his head, ROBED in a peculiar outfit, was my father. “What on earth happened here?” I had trouble getting a clear answer from anyone. It appeared that he had tried to out-swagger the local RODEO star. “Oh Dad, when will you ever learn?” Shaking my head sadly, I braced myself for what kind of situation – medical? social? – I was now facing.

Georg’ann

Let our VOICE be strong,
We can shift POWER
Refuse TOKEN gestures
It’s not our first RODEO

Heather

They who POUND the table and demand, gain little though they think themselves GRAND

Georg’ann

Walking on the BEACH
PLANT my feet into the sand
Warmth feels GRAND on soles

Heather

A bright summer day seems a strange time to anticipate how I will MOURN the loss of you. I know not how or if that day will come, I just know it will defy all LOGIC and engender confusion, deep inside me. I imagine that I will weep over your SOCKS, the very ones that made you oh so miserable. That our carefully CODED and curated grocery list on the fridge will unleash cascading waves of emotion. That every item that caused tension between us will become without fail the source of a deep longing, proof positive that walking towards tension is to walk in relationship. My future self, my self without you (should it come – in truth, though, the alternative is also painful to contemplate) will COVET this very summer morning. I will fill with angry envy over the when we sat, tension-filled — I, grumpy with you, over what now seems a trifle.

Georg’ann

When I returned home he was eating
a warmed cinnamon roll swimming
in imposter maple SYRUP
left over from the morning
the final bite that holds the day like bookends
It started early, a CHAIN
of events set in motion even before
delicious dark coffee had been poured
today served with no sprinkle
of cinnamon, dash of cardamom or hint of CLOVE
at this late hour, I COVET
clean sheets, the weight of my comforter, a few pages of a mediocre novel
I put myself and this day to rest

Heather

I COULD SHARE…
And then it wouldn’t feel like a WASTE
The clothes that no longer fit my waist
But some seem brittle as old PASTE
Some in need of a stitch or a BASTE
More than a few not to anyone’s TASTE
Stuff in a bag,
What a drag.

Georg’ann

To what would I give VOICE?
Is there nothing left to SHARE?
Childhood scraps held with PASTE
Memories perhaps going to WASTE
Faded fabric, colorful floss used to BASTE
These tender things are out of TASTE
Stored in musty boxes taking up space
The future no longer wants to hold
onto the past

Heather

Beams of sunlight SHINE upon the lake, making sparkling pools of light. I stand ALONE, and yet not: a CRANE provides welcome companionship

Georg’ann

It’s wise to ask a FAVOR
when at the point of a BREAK,
to move this CRATE,
we’ll surely need a CRANE.

Heather

She had to LEARN how to ignore the CROWD. The pressure was on, more than usual. The last game she had allowed the taunts and jeers to distract her. God, how they echoed in the gym and got under her skin.
But her coach wanted PROOF that she wasn’t some weak FROSH, that she could handle the pressure. She glanced at her watch – she had some time to kill before she had to be at the gym and suit up. She was ready to go, why not take a walk? Throwing on her coat, she grabbed a hat and scarf. Stepping out and feeling the cold air was a good jolt to her body. It always cleared her head to move – part of why she loved playing basketball so much. Settling into a brisk pace, she started walking, hearing the crunch of her boots on the grass rimmed with FROST, beginning to whistle a cheery tune. Her spirits lifted, “I’ve got this,” she thought

Georg’ann

In the chilly twilight, costumed children
zig zag across the dark street
going door to door asking for sweets
we wait on the porch, chatting
A PAUSE in the parade
allows a moment to enjoy MOIST apple cake
with warm caramel sauce.
Up through the decorations comes a GHOST
threatening tricks if no treats.
The bustling neighborhood will soon quiet,
FROST will sparkle in the morning light
signaling new seasons to come.

Heather

Dear Mom, just the other day, we were fooling around while painting the new room. I still LAUGH when I think about it. I had just opened a new PAINT can. As you know, we have been working on this room for what feels like days. The color that you RAVED about? You were right to encourage us to choose it, but still we are getting tired of the process. To keep our morale up, we put on the Barber of Seville, cranking up the BASSO profundo aria, adding our voices to the repeated ‘Figaro’ parts. We got carried away and possessed by who knows what WACKO impulse Jen grabbed a KAZOO and started dancing around. She almost stepped in that newly opened full can of paint. It would have been ‘sugar plum’ everywhere, and while I like it, that would have been a bit much. Give my love to Dad and I will send pictures soon. Your loving daughter, Sal.

Georg’ann

At this PHASE of life,
we’ve more than met our QUOTA
each medical appointment begets 3 more
X-rays and labs AGLOW
on the computer screen
highlighting problems vividly
while doctors show fascination, care,
or indifference
we return to the MANOR,
stroll the gardens
play the KAZOO
what else is there to do?

Heather

A BLADE of grass bends
A WHIRL of insects rising up
SHYLY, a rabbit appears

Georg’ann

This THING I once enjoyed has become a CHORE,
it’s not clear when it happened
Yet it is apparent if I continue,
it SHALL deplete me completely
It’s not easy to admit, I fear
disappointing myself,
and you as well
SHYLY, I ask to be released

Heather

It could have been a fiasco: they promised each other that they would meet for the LUNAR eclipse. Not only foiled by the RAINY weather, she also lost her way while trying to get to their fancy rooms at the RANCH. Thankfully, her beloved had gotten there ahead of time and had a late supper waiting for her. She arrived soggy, but relieved.

Georg’ann

Inside the pub garden old friends gather,
catching up on lives while they DRINK
a cocktail called ‘the BARON and the barmaid’
an epicurean mix of rhubarb, raspberry, lemon, absinthe and gin.
Sated with laughter, conversation, fresh air
all leave feeling SANER
As they head back towards the RANCH

Heather

‘Tis us I ADORE
In our PRIME
Unafraid of GRIME
It’s not a CRIME
Together, we soar

Georg’ann

There’s a box of SLATE in the basement
These rich grey layered squares,
with their purple and copper sheen,
have moved from house to house to house
Quite a CHORE to carry, heavy
There was a specific project,
for the little yellow cottage
our first home after divorce
I was drawn to the warm shimmer of color reflected
across the dark stone when it caught the light
no CRIME in holding onto metaphor year after year
Possibilities more precious than any particular project
Meanings vary, as do the pieces waiting patiently
raw form, emerging form
Beautiful just as they are

Heather

It’s a NOISY restaurant, but out of the cacophony emerges a little voice, singing a RHYME. I look up from my omelette and spy the source of the sweetness: a little one, swinging chubby legs, singing as the adults chatter around her. Almost like a beam of light in darkness, her innocent joy lifts my heart. I return to my solitary breakfast, a little less lonely. MAYBE today will be okay after all.

Georg’ann

It’s RAINY in the BAYOU
MAYBE it’s time to bid adieu

Heather

I am QUITE content to sit on the lanai, eat my MANGO, look at the GOONY flying by, and take a break from all that is WRONG and stressful in the world.

Georg’ann

Swimming toward the reef,
Face down, eyes scanning
the tropical water is clear
though with each stroke
my arms brush aside WASTE
the WORLD is strewn
with discarded humanity
floating bottles are the message
nothing contained within
continuing my search
as if nothing’s WRONG
me in the dump, seeking treasure

Heather

I did not quite understand what was happening – things seemed to be unfolding on a different PLANE. Was I dreaming? Surely this sort of ridiculous DRAMA was not real. It all began when my rainbow CHARD won an AWARD at the county fair. Somehow the fair BOARD had received a weird threats about my, um, ‘gay’ plant. Who would ever have imagined that my lowly garden vegetable would require a GUARD in public!?

Georg’ann

I was invited to explore
while she prepared lunch.
Her HOUSE is a gallery
even the windows frame
an intriguing landscape.
Copper colored triptych
contains another set of threes
a single QUILL, it’s tip wrapped
with a tiny band of crimson
sits on a small bookshelf altar
next to a tiny pinkish buff hued maple leaf and a 2 inch grey feather.
Eva would love the poppies.
It’s CURVY mat and silver frame
hint at creation in the late 1980’s.
I touch canvases, the paint textures vary
smooth pastels fill in their canvas squares
where vibrant jewel tones leap,
bringing the texture with them.
To the scent of garlic and wine
the GUARD leaves his post
there is no need for protection
here I am safe.

Heather

Oh how I love a PARTY!
No ifs, and, or buts,
I need no qualification or ASIDE:
It’s unequivocal,
It’s positively the pinnacle!
Say the word soirée,
And I will sway!
Say the word fete
And I will find a date!
At a moment’s notice
I AVAIL myself of the chance,
Perhaps to dance,
Once AGAIN
Just tell me when!

Georg’ann

So quickly does meat SPOIL
Assaulted by the ACRID smell upon opening the refrigerator –
once AGAIN it goes to waste

Heather

Looking up, she feels an incredible sense of PEACE. Yes, that is the man that I will MARRY. She smiles as he TALKS on and on about something… She is too distracted by the movement of his lips, the way he gestures when excited by an idea. It really doesn’t matter what he is talking about – how to make airplane models from BALSA wood or the latest developments in classical archaeology. She hears all with the ears of love and is content.

Georg’ann

One of life’s GREAT pleasures?
A SCALP massage, so simple
Imagine floating down river,
LASSO in hand, on a raft
made of BALSA,
lover’s fingers in my hair
all ten working in circles
scent of jasmine in the air

Heather

It is possible to PLACE a CROWN of daisies on a little child’s head so carefully, so as to not CRUSH a single flower. But, as you may imagine, that is a special skill, right up there with icing birthday cakes so that not a single CRUMB shows through on the edges.

Georg’ann

This house is rarely QUIET
everyone talking, clanging
spontaneous jam sessions
channeling Little Richard, Jimi Hendrix.
Dense cats leap and gallop
all night crashing about,
water swooshes through pipes,
odd creaks in walls, across floors,
an old man snoring,
young people laughing.
In this bright room a GOURD
hangs from an invisible string,
a portrait of two SAUCY teens
painted from a best friends selfie
is propped against the desk.
Waking early I find a single CRUMB
on the counter by the coffeemaker
reminder of the celebration.
It’s as still as it gets in this pulsing place.
Sound coursing is life force,
music of the heart.

Heather

The OCEAN calls to me – invites me, entices me
I want to SCOOP up handfuls of sand, of shells, of treasures
A beach where I can SCOUT out paths, watch them be washed away
And then do it all again in an endless blissful cycle

Georg’ann

In the DREAM a gentle rain falls,
maybe more a heavy mist
than distinct drops.
Walking along a mountain path
our guide has just SHOWN us
a SPOOL of rope which will be used to secure our descent.
It’s not clear what this journey is about,
only that we’ve all put out STOCK in this SCOUT,
our passage is in her hands

Heather

Feeling out of PLACE, midst conversations of DETOX, juice fasts, and whatnot, I try not to SNEER at the ridiculousness of this party. I move about the crowd, fascinated by displays of ENNUI, some of which seemed to be competitive, an odd notion to be sure!

Georg’ann

High above the freeway bustle an iridescent dragonfly
hovers above the murky WATER
POISE in motion, glint of sapphire blue
Wandering around the unexpected pond
contemplating BEING
and nothingness
a little boy has tied a string around a stick, fishing
a discarded DENIM jacket
in the dirt beside him
I wear ENNUI as if it were a pashmina, elegantly draped
soft weight on my shoulders
It’s peaceful here, misplaced
Yesterday this same serenity held a different meaning

Heather

It is with some truth that I CLAIM to not have a single SPARE moment in the day. Preparing a FEAST for 20 means not just ordering and prepping a BEAST, but, alas, often feeling and yes, even acting a bit like one.

Georg’ann

Our sunny walk curves
gently up the hill,
it’s steepness disguised
until the final bend
the city comes into view
spreading across the valley
here at the top a small pond
two mallards swim in SHADE
birds of prey swoop down
on some little BEAST

Heather

The children SWARM and scamper like goats, up and down, still in PLAIN sight of the back door. They are loathe to BATHE, preferring to stay out and play. “It’s like a GAUDY night, Miss! We want to stay out late,” they beg. Miss calls back to them, mocking and light in her manner, “it’s getting late, you need to be CANNY, and get your FANNY back here!” Giggling, they caper and skip back down the hill. Their voices raised, singing silly songs, “Oh, dear Miss, give us a kiss, we are in bliss, please don’t dismiss or take a piss.” “Oh you cheeky lot,” says NANNY, bustling about, “we barely have time now for bath, cookies, and a bit of a story before bed!” The door closes and the continued chatter and laughter drift along through the night air.

Georg’ann

The sun is setting out the PLANE window
a glowing band of color
as if the horizon were on fire.
The fair haired boy seated in front of me exclaims,
“it’s a real life volcano!
Look, it’s a real life volcano!”
Even as we hit turbulence, he he maintains excitement
stating “the engines are failing” without a hint of fear.
It is only as we are descending through the clouds
that his demeanor has the TAINT of apprehension.
There is something reassuring in the sky-view expanse.
Now engine lights periodically flash like lightening in the shrouding grey mist as we bump our way down.
Randomly I think of magma
was what I meant to pick in my word game, not MAGNA.
The former would flow
whereas the latter will not.
The boy and his NANNY gather their things,
meeting the mother at this junction, then continuing onto Australia.
Moving from Terre Haute to Melbourne,
my in flight entertainment
was the commencement of a life changing adventure.

Heather

BRASH, harsh, abrupt – the telling of the story was hard to absorb. The voice on the other end of the phone – so much pain. I am aware that I am taking in all the tension, distorted on the couch, hunched over, tightening my jaw, my hands, my gut. The THEME is so familiar – love, accusations, betrayal, shame, fear – all made worse by the public, curated nature of lives in our world. Ironically fueling private pain and paranoia. The room I am in suddenly feels claustrophobic, the HUMID air pushes on me. The voice breaks into sobs once more and I want to scream.

Georg’ann

When the BREAK comes
she gets stuck, haunted
though not by a GHOST
feels terror, inside her mind playing a horror film
her pleading, tear filled voice seeking reassurance,
as I walk under the moon
She grasps for connection
to her grandmother, to birds
recalls the FINCH at the feeder
like any finch, it darts away
So long on this HILLY path
Simultaneously climbing
and deeply descending,
belaying steadily, trusting
the rope, the rock
Feeling the heaviness
of the HUMID air
we both want to let go
free fall into the abyss
“I’m right here, sweetheart,
I won’t let you go”

Heather

The LODGE was in a bad way: it needed a fresh coat of PAINT; a bit of an upgrade to the kitchen; a whole lot of cleaning. We had started inside in the winter, with lots of determination. And now it’s summer, and after a satisfying MARCH around the building, we are ready. I made rum BABAS for dessert. With a little JAZZY dinner music and the rest of the fancy food from the kitchen. And then we’ll be ready to prove the naysayers wrong.

Georg’ann

SLATE colored CARGO ships
vessels of adventure
The rats and I are HAPPY
it may seem DAFFY to celebrate
the migration of JANKY goods
yet so much life in motion sitting still watching the bustle
eating a JAMMY sandwich
recalling port scenes
from all genres of film and lit
gives me a JAZZY vibe

Heather

Light as a feather, the delicate rose petals DANCE above a PLATE, heavily scented flowers shedding. An array of pink-tipped debris falls across the table. Human dancers move, both AGILE and smooth, in and out of the tables. My table, off to the side, affords me a good view of the roses, the dancers, and the golden sunlight. What a perfect summer evening for a garden party!

Georg’ann

Driving the country road over hills,
around the curves
through woods and cornfields
in search of the tallest TRAIN trestle.
She spans high above a field dotted with wildflowers.
I watch a butterfly land on a DAISY
in the late afternoon sun
all manner of fluttering, swooping, buzzing
around me
It is gloriously ALIVE
I marvel at the AGILE perching,
how carefully balanced these tiny legs on delicate petals.

Heather

With a GLARE that could IMPEL obedience from a tiger, she stomped out of the HOTEL. Catching a glimpse of this performance through the exquisite BEVEL etched goblet of my wine glass, I marvel. We humans EXCEL at these sorts of displays, ones calculated to maximize attention. I bow, nay, I KNEEL to a superior display. I approach the hotel clerk, trying to figure out how to get that diva’s name. She would be perfect for the play I am tasked with casting.

Georg’ann

The VIDEO TAKEN by the bystander clearly showed the assault. There was no way to deny that the victim had been KNEED while attempting to KNEEL down for her evening prayers.

Heather

With her usual FLAIR, she tried to convince them that the THEME of this year’s gala should be Man vs. MOUSE. “We could have a mousetrap contest, see who can build a better mousetrap!” she enthused. “People can dress up like famous mice (Mickey! Jerry!) Or like exterminators!” The committee was doubtful.

Georg’ann

Left quickly, PAINT spilled
I DROVE away, unaware
MOUSE feet make new art

Heather

FLAME gonna burn, Baby
Don’t STOMP
On my heart
Don’t SKIMP
With your love

Georg’ann

The CHOIR director was offered a new song by a local musician. After listening he knew immediately this was the turning point. He didn’t pause to BLINK, laying out his vision. On this one he would not SKIMP, even if it meant pulling on his own meager means.

Heather

In a desperate attempt to keep PEACE at the table, she made a WAGER with her restless, testy 10 and 12 year old dinner companions. It would not have done to have BARED her true motivation, and so she shared with them a recent video. “I bet you can’t figure out how to RAVEL (that’s the opposite of unravel, right?) our RAMEN. First one to knit a noodle scarf gets to pick where we go for dessert.” A few giggles, eye rolls, a fair bit of broth splashes, and using chopsticks as knitting needles, they all failed miserably at emulating the clever person in the video. And no one won the bet. But they did succeed (eventually) at having dinner. Ice cream seemed the only sensible thing to do after that.

Georg’ann

Fingers moved through the soft EARTH, lifting it up, feeling
it fall back through her fingers.
She’d RACED for the last time, crossed the finished line and fallen to her knees, spent.

There’d be time later to put it all into some tidy narrative, boxed up and sealed shut. For now she allowed the energy to slip away, like the dirt moving in her hands.

Perhaps tomorrow she’d head to the library, spend the day reading something that would take her further away than any race ever could, while simultaneously holding her steadily in place. She always loved running past the return box painted like a RAVEN, written over with a Poe quote.

Yes, life was opening. Things she’d noted in passing were now possibilities with which to fully engage. A good book and a bowl of RAMEN, simple pleasures that had no place in her race running life. It would be a different pace moving forward, the outcome of which was still unknown.

She rose from the ground and took her place on the platform where soon her final medal would be placed around her neck. She stood quietly looking forward without seeing.

Heather

In line at the FEAST
Pondering which beast
Is it best to nosh on a SHEEP?
Or will I get wool in my teeth?
Perhaps I should SLIDE
Over to the side
In search of the sublime
Will it be the SWINE?
Oh no I eschew
Flesh to chew
And settle for a glass of Pinot
And a plate of quinoa

Georg’ann

Best not to DRINK wine
that pours from a bottle
wrapped round with TWINE
use as a kitschy candleholder?
He that gave it is a SWINE

Heather