Sunday, 30 July 2023

Three Poems by Gail White

 



I Can Imagine

 

That Jason and Medea settled down

together in old age. That they hung pictures

of their dead children on the Christmas tree.

The murder was so long ago, it must

have seemed like something that they did together.

Best to forgive all round, remember only

their early love and travels, and forget

betrayals once committed in hot blood.

 

I can imagine Adam telling Eve

he wished that they’d had girls – so much less trouble,

as they retired to their respective beds.

 

I can imagine Mary Magdalene

wondering why His mother never liked her,

even as tongues of fire danced on their heads.

 

 

The Innocent

 

We’ve taken refuge here, half underground,

hoping our breath and heartbeats make no sound

to trace us by. I can’t afford to care

what happens to the other ones out there,

what roll of rape and murder. I will die

for you if need be; meanwhile, please don’t cry;

your life’s at stake. Neither of us is old,

but we’re a story that’s already told

a thousand times. I’ve sheltered here before,

hiding you in a shawl. And there are more

like you and me. I don’t foresee the day

when Caesar’s world dries up and blows away.

Such an old story: Mothers, children, fear.

They sound so close behind us. Please, not here.

 

 

The Old Dame Looks Ahead

 

My mad computer’s gone berserk again,

spewing out incoherent words, and I,

having no grandkids, now must borrow one

from someone else. Because the old no longer

guard the collected wisdom of the tribe;

now it’s the young, siphoning lore from iphones,

who fend disaster off, who fight the gods

and demons for us. My day is done, I know.

The polar ice cap’s melting, so I can’t

be shifted to an iceberg to drift toward death

(one point for being childless). Soon enough

I’ll pack a suitcase, leave behind for good

a world whose music I no longer hear,

machines that I can’t use, and end my days

parking at random, living in my car,

dispensing wisdom from a jelly jar.


Gail White is a contributing editor to Light Poetry Magazine. Her own poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including Nasty Women Poets, Love Poems at the Villa Nelle, and Killer Verse. Her latest chapbook, Paper Cuts, is just out from Kelsay Books. She lives in he Louisiana bayou country with her husband and cats.


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