Winter Trees

Ice falls and tumbles,
coating our lives
lovely shimmering clear.
Sparkling limbs
sag and bend
under the weight
of solid water.
I listen to the moan, the sad
beautiful music of trees
as they splinter.

I imagine you
in your ice covered
house. Do you sleep
through the cracks and sharp
sounds? Or do you listen
as the winter takes branches
held in shiny brilliance
crashing downward?

If you hear the splendor
and sorrow of frozen trees,
give me the acorn you have
hidden in the snow.
I will hold it gently
in my palm
until it thaws.

- Elizabeth Glass

(featured in the poetry forum 12.22.11)

editor's note: Hush those carolers, still those bells... listen to the whispering of trees, telling us secrets of solstice. - mh

Shadows

We can’t forget granddad, granddaddy
Daddy O’. He, too, like Dad, like boyfriend
allowed the deep dark slithering monsters
to take him away far gone from his kid
kid kiddos, his wife. Farming accident
they say. Farming accident they claim.
Truth. Let’s speak the facts, leave the
verisimilitude at the barn and enter,
go deep into the scene. There he is. Gone.
Gone daddy gone. Look at it. Face him. See.
Bullet. See the bullet. It’s not in his foot.
Not in his leg. Not in the tin roof of the barn.
It’s in his head. His hair, salt and pepper like
Dad’s, his head, has a bullet like Dad’s.
This is how we lose men in my family,
This is how they go. Boyfriend, father, grandfather
All taken by black dark dank evil slinking
stalking monsters. All taken by their hand.
All taken before their time.

- Elizabeth Glass

(featured in the poetry forum 10.19.11)

editor's note: May we learn to stare down those beasts, not let them devour us. May we remember those who didn't, but not follow them. - mh

Stolen Time, Time Stolen

When I met him I was naked.
Pulled the cheap black-red satin slick
sheet around me,
masquerading as last night’s gown.
He smiled, blue-eyed elfin grin
plopped on dented clatter rattle metal toolbox
feet on beaten brown wear worn guitar case
and didn’t leave,
Even when I fumble tugged,
the shiny sheet pinned underneath me,
trying to pull it tighter, the pillow closer,
pretend I was clothed.
We three discussed Evita, Phantom,
Lewis Carroll, Richard Feynman.
Three? Yes, but only naked-awkward for him.

In his next apartment,
still three, but no longer two and one,
on a humid sticky sweet honeysuckled night,
we peered into the eyes of gargoyles
mythical beings, telling tales of souls cavernous wicked.
By the cathedral was a fountain
sparkling gurgling churning water above
a slick whiteblack marble pool below.
Jumping dunking laughing.
Back in his room, he pulled me, wet,
onto his yellowgreen flannel sheets, threw our clothes
on the gritty hardwood floor.
We slept curled like children
over and under, touching, but not exploring
dreaming, dripping, on hot damp cotton.

***

Three went deep into a cave
water drip drip dripping above around
on knees he grabbed my hand, whispered,
“Don’t look up, trust me, come with me, don’t look up.”
I do, I listen, I follow. “Look back,” he says.
Cave crickets thousands of cave crickets and more
danced moved jumped undulated above
long thick curly hair
seconds before. Hand through mane instinctively,
checking. He smiled, touched my cheek.
Through dark small dirtpacked holes we crawled.
Home, my home, not his, we two
sat, stood, walked on furniture
couch chair chair hearth couch chair
Silly giggly he put my dress over his clothes
orange black blue black squiggly lines ran his body.
Laughing falling landing on soft mattress
we talked, feet and feet covering touching moving.
I pulled the dress over his head as he left
it was dirtysexier than anything before.

Two went hiking in Red River Gorge
just two, not three, but two plus a dog for three.
He showed me puff fluffy puff of gray mushrooms
in heat, sending their seedcloud to propogate
the clifftops. We traversed the green rhododendron
world, green green everywhere, pinkandwhite
flowers pop popping out, rock shelters and
ridges different, too. Two stopped on ridgetop,
sandstone scratchy underneath,
hundred foot drop on the right.
“This is where we’re camping,” he laughed, then
winked his deepblue eyes reflecting the sky.
When we climbed in the tent there is one sleeping bag,
one bag not two, two plus zippers equals one.
We snuggle tight and close, the clothes
shorts and t-shirts between us a line thick as brick
we shouldn’t cross. Joints and parts grew stiff
through thin hopeful cotton of the night.
He held me eight hours, tight and firm,
demanding and decided, but the brick would not,
shouldn’t give. Dog on my left, him on my right,
holding forbidden now because he has a bride.

***

We had to fabricate fib lie to see each other, bride
said no nope never. We had to sneak creep creak.
One day, “lunch with coworker,” he climbed
into my bedroom window, me sweaty naked
90 degree summer screamed the most honest scream
he ever heard. He nuzzle cuddled, wrapped hands
around neck, squeezed grasped gripped
pressed sweet spot, stars stars stars
appear bursting and heaving.
“Shower, we’re going to lunch.” We ate sexy
post-luminary food raspberry torte blueberry pie
snuck forks into silly grinning mouths
reminding us of stolen starry moments
breathing heavy panting memories
finger traced lips sweet sugary lips, brushes nosetip
fingertips touch tips of fingers linger at parting.

Seven on a rooftop. One plus one plus one plus four
in our nakedness we lay, no touching just laying
these seven. One by one by one he dared cajoled
tricked flipped us into being naked, heaps of cotton
on cotton on cotton lay lie lay at our feet
each of seven feeling the wind moon stars upon us.
It is wonderful comfortable nakedness
no one cares no sexuality just nude.
Everyone went home late four a.m. he stopped me
pulled me back backward from the window grabbed
hold my waist my lioned waist pulls drags tugs hauls
me outside from in. Now is time for the telling swelling
now is time for touches now he says
“I’ve wanted this for years,” but I stop
prevent impede prohibit. We finish, but not
the way he envisioned saw desired
but a good way a very happy and delicious
way. Shingles on the roof press into us
our arms bottoms legs knees breasts making marks
like thick sandpaper on skin. What we do
like think is sandpaper on me and him.

One plus one in a hotel we met. He traveling
for business me living nearby. In the hot swirly
whirly bubbly tub he poured plied buys me
with booze. We laugh giggle touch bump react in
the hot wet tub. Up we go for me to change back into a
girlfriend and he a husband. “You’re too drunk to drive,”
he said, I argue, he poured sloshed another drink,
handed me the glass. Boyfriend called, lied to,
deceived, and he says, “Now let’s do what we’ve been accused
of for years” and we kiss. First kiss. Ten years first tender
warm yearning driven kiss. “She thinks we do this,
I get yelled at for it, so we’ll do it,” and we did.

One plus one plus two had hot steamy warm milk
and coffee listened to beat drum music poetry
guitar songs stories. Time with coffee goes on
our touch cuddle caresses fall off.
Stolen moments glances dances drinks touches
but no more private places to go. Too dirty icky tricky
seedy to get hotel in the town we both live
so we steal looks for years that follow.

He moved. Out of state he goes he flowed and
we didn’t talk or walk or write.
When he came back I thought we’ll touch cuddle caress
play on swingsets in caves both mine and the land’s
on trails bars and coffee but we don’t go the same places.
We don’t see each other. One night he goes to a party
a rocking storming delirious party from which he
doesn’t return. I’ll always have those moments,
those rough tumbly bubbly touchy starry moments
but no more to come. Together we stole time, but now
time is stolen and we won’t get to play again.

- Elizabeth Glass

(featured in the poetry forum 09.03.11)

editor's note: As love stories go, this one will take you far, while there's time... read on, you really should. - mh