Five Superb Poems by RC deWinter

 

around the curve

in the stillness of the night

in a colorado desert

high on a plateau that promised

absolutely nothing

i stood awash in moonbeams,

wondering about that curve

in a silent empty road



from where i stood

there was no telling

where it went

or what it led to

the possibilities endless

one could imagine anything

beyond the eye’s encompassing



curiosity killed the cat, they say

but i say curiosity’s a good thing

when the landscape of life is barren,

void of all but stones and scrub,

how can one go on

without wanting to know

what lies around the curve?





star chamber

you took the world and curved it
to fit what you knew i wanted to see
tempting me with small tweaks
piping in just enough magic to deceive

crushing the parts of you that were false
burying them in the earth of deception

upon which you built what you knew
i couldn't resist

and i
a mass of raw emotion

hungry for attention for rescue for love
was the fool who chose feeling over knowledge
and walked through that door
as though salvation waited on the other side

you never wanted a lover
only an audience for your own shopworn fantasies


and i
enchanted by the glamour you wove
as expertly as any spider ever wove a web for hapless fly
threw myself into that bad movie
waiting for the scene in which we'd ride off into the sunset

the sun never set


when knowledge finally triumphed
the sun exploded
spewing all the halftruths all the lies
into the ugly room you'd magicked just for me

and when i stumbled out the door
the world had disappeared
but for a cold bed on a flat plain
under stars that laughed
as i tried to rise to find a life





suburban spring

it's still too early in the year for the insect choir
and by some miracle no homeowner
playing hooky from work
is buzzsawing chopping wood
washing a car or standing in a driveway
yelling into a cell phone


the children are still in school
and apparently no one in the aging strip
of the neighborhood is in need of
an ambulance


the dog that barks at the rustle of a leaf
must have died
and even the cat
who's a talker is snoozing in the sun


it would be a perfect silent oasis
except some louseridden bird is chirping
its urgent unattractive mating call
the tired scrape of a rusty gate
filling the afternoon with annoyance




Spectrophilia

I remember the night we laughed about ghost sex,
smiling at each other across the thousands of miles
separating your skin from mine.

It was a brief blip in a much longer,
more serious conversation about love, desire
and the future awaiting your return.

But fate had other plans.
We never owned the gift of becoming each other
as we shared the colors of our souls.

Still, the memory of what should have been
is an invisible tattoo that keeps me awake,
burning for that blighted promise

And, when I touch myself with your strong sure hand,
I wonder if the ecstasy rippling out into the cosmos
illuminates the stardust that is you.




going out for ice cream



first time out
since february
when i'd been
laid up for
two weeks with sinusitis
and by the time i


was well the
world had become a
jungle where
death roamed on
the breath of strangers but now
i'd eaten my way

through all the
edible odds and
ends sulking
in the back
pantry and the brother who’d
been delivering my food


decreed it
was now safe enough
for me to
purchase my
own comestibles so i
showered and tried to

make myself
look human not an
easy job
these days in
a suburb where women dress
up for each other

even when
running errands or
shopping for
groceries
what with my silvery hair
fuzzing out in a

corona
around my gaunt face
i look like
nothing so
much as a dandelion
gone to seed with clothes

hanging loose
and limp off a too
thin stalk and
even hoisting
my sullen breasts into a
sports bra underneath

my festive
acapulco tee
a place i've
never been
and have no wish to visit
i am a cartoon

parody
of white privilege
but heigh ho
and off we
go on the hottest day so
far of the summer

with a mask
on the seat beside
me and a
heart full of
trepidation i drive the
two and some miles to

the waiting
world not sure if the
game is worth
the gamble but lusting for
ice cream surrendered

RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in New York City Haiku (NYTimes, 2/2017), Coffin Bell Two (3/2020),  Winter Anthology: Healing Felines and Femmes, (Other Worldly Women Press, 12/2020), Now We Heal: An Anthology of Hope, (Wellworth Publishing, 12/2020) in print: 2River, Event, Gargoyle Magazine, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Prairie Schooner, Southword, Twelve Mile Review, York Literary Review among others and appears in numerous online literary journals.