Dotty Armstrong
Communion
Shore to shore
the Skykomish is awash with salmon
charging toward home.
I settle on the bank
eying a large one in the shallows
close to me.
She is red and ragged.
She is not digging her nest,
she is not turning on her side
flapping her tail to smooth the gravel,
she is not rolling out her eggs
in all directions. She is quiet
as a night with no wind.
She is resting from her pilgrimage
which has torn her up.
It is enough that I can join with her
in rest.
Margaret France, Ph.D.
“House Hunters Season 110, Episode 7: Musicians Look for Home in DC Suburbs with Rehearsal Space”
He wants a craftsman, she wants a rambler
For twenty years they make music together
And two children, one eleven one five
Near DC, Takoma Park they will live
Three houses they see, differences so stark
Gas stoves, en suite commodes, throughout Takoma Park
“Look like a nice rambler!” Dania cries!
“If that’s your thing” Aram, nonplussed, replies.
This one costs too much, oh so sweet the suite
Can we live through renovation honey?
Dust, noise, nails, how many months to complete?
Six bedrooms love, so much for our money
Three to choose, free to choose, why is so hard?
Hunters know thyselves: low-maintenance yard.
—
Margaret France, Ph.D.
she/her/hers
Check out my new book, The Genius of Bob’s Burgers
Claire Carpenter
Scolding
Maybe we both need a good talking-to:
Need some firm parental figure to sit us down at the kitchen table
as if we were ten again,
tell us they know we can do better
be better
than our recent behavior suggests–
So we need to get our act together.
Maybe they would tell us
they don’t care who started it,
whose fault it is…
It’s time to stop the incessant squabbling—
It is getting on everybody’s nerves.
I thought this poem was about a marriage:
Middle aged couple arguing over trivialities.
But countries, too, could stand to be reminded of the basic rules of childhood:
Share with others
Clean up your messes
And for God’s sake, keep your hands to yourself!
Leon Petty
God Is More About Courage Than Eternity
The power of any myth
does not exist in its reality
but in its contemplation
Sure, I would like to live forever
At least I think I do
having maybe never tried it
and I have to wonder
did God let Adam and Eve
finish that whole apple?
Greedily swallowing
the core and the seeds
because it has always been
a marathon for sinful me
to gain the knowledge
of the difference between
Good and Evil
My dilemma has always been
of who and what to be
Juggling role models
John Wayne to Jesus
Dad and Mom!
The myriads of personalities to mime
hopefully, eventually
gleaning out my own exquisite person
To be or not to be
That is indeed this mortal question
Ultimately all spirits are blown about
by the greater power of the wind
suffering the pits and rewards
of being emptied, bruised and broken
Cowardice Courage
Hubris Humility
Constant crossroads
Relentless sovereigns
All essential to the evolving conscious life
All luscious and bitter
as their steeped succulence matriculates
In this sea of creation and destruction
with each new change of form
within our own precarious carapace
with courage we ordain and join
what is Immortal and Divine