Flash fiction55 : Key hole

It has rings
or layers of
plink and plunk.

Hands around a tidy,
square box.
Bring it down
tip it :   
                                       
A big seed rolling,    
one stone sliding

or, open to find
a shell shaping white.    

Outside is striped in colors
the lid stamped
by a mystery face;

the saving and hiding
of secrets has begun.

Absolutes

The tautness of hide over muscle and bone.
Remember that rock solid firmness
of a saddle well cinched ?
slight creak of stretching leather,
unyielding iron stirrups.

Moss on rock could slip,
 bark on Pine could crumble.
A bike could skid,
my brother was strong when we wrestled;
but the barn and horses
smelled sweet.

Microfiction 41,

We fold ourselves 
upon the earth,
fold as water

while air is filled
then pressed
as Stars sharpen,deepen

are we like them, yes or no ?

Two stress days 55

Lately I seek
a swathe clearing instrument:
a large scythe or maul to swing in a circle-

"Get out of my way! coming through !" 

Sometimes I desperately want
space and silence to think;
" Go away-be quiet, leave me be"

Self will and doubt
are gray shores I am courting;
If onlys sweep low overhead .

                    

" Say again?"

Tiny bits of  laughter erupting
with the antics of an animal

Cornmeal scattered over wood
with bread crusts,

reaching out a hand 
to stop a dusty brown sleeve
from passing,

the dip of a hummingbird
here and gone.

bubbles in ginger ale-

so light
and fleeting,
it hardly stands repeating

more fragile than a subzero snow flake

that is how impossibly dry
I like it

Embossed red and gold 55

Extinguish !
Where was it ?
that tall thin canister
the Sunday I was 9     

My family in the kitchen
of a rented Tudor house,
when my Father got burnt
in a grease fire.

Black smoke smeared over white walls
When the yelling stopped

his hand got wrapped
I was shaking from images
and echoes of 'Great Expectations'.

Monday prisoners

Honey green wraps the stone building.
We have a large, teasing view
as 20 watchdogs sit,  listen, read.

One Judge has gone back upstairs,
" Your presence today, is dissolving
almost a year of  wait and see. Thank you-"

Her banner drapes about us as
Faint voices, wave along with distant footsteps;
doors, open and close.

In snaky curves we wind
upward to an airy pyramid.
Smiles and introductions sweep the paneled room.

14 are questioned,
7 go to seats on the other side.

With gratitude:
" You are excused."
our remains are released.

poetry bus: ode to : Beautiful food

What would you write on
a body, or photo of fish

Mine ? to this beautiful, smooth scaled sight
fins almost filling a round, bluish dish

all color and texture flow together in light
with butter and lemon soon fulfilling a wish!

Early 55

How large? and what shape
is this decision-

elastic like bubblegum,
or firm like muscle.

More a shawl or blanket?
Hard and stackable as coins.

Sneaky,like a secret
always hidden in a pocket

or lying on a windowsill,
brought out at school bus stop

when will you wave goodbye ?

Suddenly

It began Saturday,with shavings
of dark Chocolate,
he was fascinated by the shapes
that could be achieved.
Curving castle walls
each turret spired
in a unique and
unequaled way.

He held them up
at eye level,
remembering Camelot
and many waving
colored flags and family shields.
'The children will love this!'
He set each piece
carefully down along
the white cliffs of frosting.
Four tiers !
the spiral grew
outward. Rims of
Himalayan mountains,
staggering spires in the desert
at sunset.

By Monday morning
the recipe tucked in a pocket,
he was off to school
carrying the prize
ten blocks for all to see.
First period
the cool dark benches of
Home Economics classroom,
spread in front of him like a fan.
He looked out at dozy
children settling in,
He placed mixing bowls
and gleaming spoons
across the counter
where sunlight sharply
highlighted in patches,
dazzling his spectacles.

"Good Morning !"
He opened his arms
expansively to include
bodies on the fringe,
" Today we have and exciting
opportunity before us,"
He turned to retrieve his Masterpiece,
"A chance to incorporate
Science, History, Art-"
He never got a chance to finish,
his right arm beheaded
two layers, smearing
frosting and yellow cake,
across the green chalkboard
behind his podium.

fifty-five

“Root ‘em and boot ‘ em out
Then go find your kid gloves.”
From the cellar to the attic
It’s been that kind of week.

“Get up off that splintery wharf
and march yourself home!”
(my hand on your neck)
“See that crow, with beady eyes ?
He can morph too- Be vigilant,
he wants you dead.”