THE HOBBY OF FRIEDA ROSE (August Postcard Poetry 2018)

She lives like a ghost

Fourth floor above him

Mute, invisible

Sleeps with the moon.

He lives like a poet

Personal hell below her

Driven, impossible

Drinks ink from the night.

Words float between them

Written, unspoken,

Abundance of imagery

Coating the walls.

He puts out recycling

She ransacks the bin

Creating a kimono of prose

Sashed with haiku.

 

Copyright 2018

 

 

THE PHOTO IN FRIEDA ROSE’S WALLET (August Postcard Poetry 2018)

He lives in her wallet, face out of focus,

Single frame sliced from a photo booth strip.

They met in a library book

OF LOVE AND OTHER DEMONS

Garcia-Marquez

page 126

Hair electrified by lightning

Eyes on fire from dreams of volcanoes

Mouth sweetened on untold lies.

Men have lusted after and loved her.

She forgets each and every one

Obsessively pulling out the lone photo

Searching for the unknown man

The only one that she wants.

 

Copyright 2018

 

THE BOX OF SECRETS COLLECTED BY FRIEDA ROSE (August Postcard Poetry 2018)

She unearthed the box near the curb

Buried beneath white trash bags

An old seat cushion

Woolen, electric blue,

The color of secrets

The size of a mother’s heart.

She filled it with mystery

The size of a hummingbird’s egg

Stuffed it with wonder

Scented by Babylon

Placed it dead center

Under her lonely platform bed

Voyaging on nightly visions

Distilled by the vapors

Of its contents.

 

Copyright 2018