Alders Rained

                Alders Rained

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Alders rained leaves

From the sky

Like tears rolling

Down my cheeks.

A leaf caught

In my eye, shattered

The morning with gold.

I love you,

I said aloud.

And the world

Bowed at my feet.

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Seeunsee

Seeunsee

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The ghosts on the highway

From Hays to Ft. Belknap

Still live. The creeks

Hold them, Three Mile,

Peoples Creek, Thirty Mile.

The fire lookout atop Three Buttes

Long-ago crumbled into the dust,

But the ghosts still roam

This land where stones starve.

Wild Horse holds whispers, listen.

Entire families afoot, in wagons,

Burned out husks of cars. Buffalo

Shadows run the windy grasses.

Bones rain down in circles.

Once you see them, you cannot

Un-see them. See. Un-see.

See. Unsee.  Seeunsee.

Seeunsee. A chant. A ceremony. 

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Sex

            Sex

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My first sex

Was ten years of Slam,

Bam, Thank you Ma’am.

He would ask

Did you come?

What the hell did that mean?

Instinctively, I knew

To answer, Yes.

One time

He started to do

Something Different.

I got excited.

He backed off.

Apologized.

Mumbled about

That was only for whores.

I wanted to be a whore.

Instead, I remained

The constant virgin.

One day Old Brian Stevens

Rode by looking for his

Fence-jumping bull.

I pulled a peach pie

Out of the oven.

The coffee pot was always on.

It’s the neighborly thing to do.

Pie and coffee at the kitchen table.

Old Brian was eighty-two.

I was nineteen and eight months pregnant.

When my husband got home

He interrogated me.

This happened nearly every day.

I got used to it.

I must have been

Some Hot Sex Pot

And didn’t even know it.

Or did he think if I’d give It to him,

I’d give It to anyone?

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Winged Horses

            Winged Horses

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I met a man.

Gentle, kind, a good man.

We walked in step,

Laughed at jokes

Only we understood.

He finished my sentence.

I completed his thought.

We loved good wine,

Better water, wet feet,

Casting for trout.

Lyrics were the best part

Of our song, the way words

Rolled off our tongues.

I could nestle into him like home.

When I relaxed into loving him,

He pulled the wings

Off my horses.

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Cut Asunder By the Strait

 Cut Asunder By the Strait

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Cut asunder by the strait.

First cousin to Victoria,

Port Angeles perches on the edge

            Of bluff outlook.

Fishing boats nudge creosote piers,

            Freighters from Japan gulp logs.

Across the salt sea sits the Queen;

            Anglophiles all, we love her.

The lighthouse blinks steady kisses.

Gulls scree into the all-around.

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Mama Doll

            Mama Doll

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She stood at the dining room window

Hank of hair wrapped around her fore-finger,

Thumb stroking the strands. Autumn rain

Drummed the roof, air damp of rotting leaves.

Where’s Mommy? Her arms wrapped around Daddy’s

Leg. Where’s Mommy? Daddy turned his face,

Made a noise in his throat, pushed

Her off his leg, rushed out into the wet, leaving

The kitchen door ajar. She watched out the window

Until dark joined the cold.

She stomped upstairs to her bedroom,

Took her dollies out of her old crib,

Where they lay all in a row. She clutched

Mama Doll to her chest and with blunt scissors,

Chopped off its hair.

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All my oceans lie westward

            All my oceans lie westward

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I am lost. On the Caribbean

My compass turned me upside down.

My friend points “We go north.”

My inner self screams, “You point south.”

The sea laps the wrong side of the beach.

My Pacific nature clogs with Sargassum,

Walks me in circles too large

For white sands and turquoise waters

To erase.

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