The clouds have dripped
all over the streets
Draping tulle
of suspended rain
White shrouds of gauze
covering buses and cars
She pulls on boots
Ducks into a trench coat
Ready to dance
her hallelujah waltz
All in jubilation
of heaven’s arrival on earth.
Copyright 2018
Hope is taped to her bathroom mirror
She found it in the gutter
weighed down by a bottle of beer
Name smeared with discarded cigarette butts
She folded Hope into quarters
Tucked it into her pocket
Taped it to the bathroom mirror
She no longer lives alone.
Copyright 2018
She has a relationship with a Vespa
Bike birthed with attitude
Tires surfing macadam
Working the odds
Never powering through them
Gentle purring between her legs
More seductive than
the thrust of power
She has a relationship with a Vespa
Frieda Rose is headed places.
Copyright 2018
She craves conversation
in the morning
at breakfast
Life all alone
makes her hungry for words
The sorcery of cereal
small bowl of Rice Krispies
SNAP
CRACKLE
POP
So loquaciously satisfying
She experiments with liquids
beyond sordid tastes
Beer, wine
Coffee, milk
Tea, Pop
Juice, Sake
The unnatural rice cereal
responds in kind
Philosophical, romantic
Boisterous, reflective
Argumentative, silent
She has yet to try
city tap water.
Copyright 2018
He had a body forged from steel
Blast furnace conscience
Blue collar free will
His features were sunken
Third-shift eclipse
Saturday night looming
on a Tuesday horizon
Caribbean cruise
of the tavern next door
Never a postcard
“Wish you were beautiful”
No cheap souvenir
to remember the place.
Copyright 2018
Nobody knows her
Not those who offered the crown
Bestowed the title Poet Laureate
of Public Bathrooms
Her identity a whisper
Her appearance conjecture
Only the deep black of the marker
branding the tiles
Spewing forth poetry
painful, majestic
Announcing her existence
in an unexpected way.
Copyright 2018
Let others anguish over the fate
of Earth.
She fixates on Pluto
unlucky planet
now just a dwarf.
The Earth has had its heyday
prosperous mother
bountiful lover
Now humans’ cheap whore
But Pluto?
Namesake of hell
slow-moving ice sphere
red-faced owner of a ferryman moon?
Always mistaken for a slap happy cartoon
Pluto’s saving grace
is its mythical affinity
for lovers separated by death.
Copyright 2018
She wraps her arms around her torso,
A vision of unexpected beauty,
Clad in black tank top,
Red wrap-around skirt,
Cheap pair of flip-flops
saving warm flesh
from marble
Never giving a thought
about what she holds
inside those arms.
Copyright 2018
She loves the language of rain
So many dialects
She has yet to learn
The pronunciation of each
But one Sunday morning
listening to Django Reinhardt
in bed
The lyrics of a storm
became powerfully clear.
Copyright 2018
She floats on a worn inner tube,
reeking of rubber
Buoyed by what passes for water,
South Side city lake
dredged for landfill
reefs of discarded tires.
The reason is unknown
why she jumped into the water
especially as she had
no ability to swim.
The dirty lake grasped her
She relaxed in the embrace
Strong arms broke the hold
rescued her from fate
Water still seduces,
though she avoids a relationship,
Alert to the fear
of another near drowning.
Copyright 2018
Donna Dakota in Word 