Full moon Friday and
August thick, gnats and all that
stickiness, sticky-ness, mess.
Praying mantis carcass dead on
the front stoop. Lock the door. Lock it again.
Bar the door, Katie. Final last call.
Keep an eye on the door til the
Lights come up again. Lock the
Door. Lock. Bar. Bolt.
Bury the carcass under the blossoming
hydrangea. Pray. Pray for rain. For
salvation. For redemption. For all the
things you don’t believe in, Katie.
What now has changed your mind about that?
Katie did. Katie did. Katie
did not see the bus, the train. Katie
missed the bus, caught up in the
gnats, the stickiness, the mess.
Katie call. Call Katie. Call.
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A place for writers to find refuge when doubt and rejection have trapped them in the underworld. Writing and works in progress by Mary, as well as some photos of travels.
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About Me
- Just Mary
- Empty nest; what is next? Over 20 years as a creative writing instructor; over 40 years as a writer. On my desk right now, an unopened bag of coffee beans, a music cd, a plethora of pens, two newspaper scraps, photos of my son and daughter, two half-full bottles of water and a half empty coffee mug and a notice from Julie about a poetry reading Friday night.
1 comment:
(And)What now has changed your mind about that?
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