Five Poems by Sheila E. Murphy

 

It Stopped Being January

 

I was tired and you

were tired and wind 

blew blessings we could not

yet read I read myself

to sleep in the dim 

hours beyond sunset

 

in which coastal meant time

to coast near frost to breathe

the slimmer feeling once

reeling from shoulder-

length amendments to

detachment remanded to

weather whether or not

gilded to fictitious summer

 

 

from Ghazals (2023-2024)

120/

 

Threadbare youth remain precious future hires. 

Virtuoso early spring of woodwinds.

 

Lessons typically run in threes: first

advertise what is (to come), teach, review.

 

Beaver Reintroduction Efforts chime

through the tiny city eager to grow.

 

My life has been one long Lenten season.

Tenderloin, Broadway show and neighborhood.

 

I sing the song "Gary, Indiana" 

for the player "Andy Isabella."

 

 

from Ghazals (2023-2024)

123/

 

With little else to do, homophones sleep

together between stacks smelling of must.

 

Crustaceans arrive on plates and hold still

while conversation veers across them.

 

Laces of shopworn shoes will not tie.

Glass may preserve better antiquities.

 

Winter functions as a renewable 

part of life covered in cold protection.

 

The seasoned woman rehearses being

born anew with limber limbs and laughter.

 

 

from Ghazals (2023-2024)

124/

 

What kind of demiurge should be assigned

to unlace winter from incipience?

 

A zither left to me extracted breath

from listeners when I began to play.

 

A cafe called New Daylight housed a spy.

She brought her lunch guest a lavender rose.

 

Rescue gilds old fear irresponsibly.

A hapless audience can be taught peace.

 

We saw Saturn through the intricate scope

only its maker was allowed to touch.

 

 

from Ghazals (2023-2024)

125/

 

Distal affection subtracts pretended 

lure of the ubiquitous quiet man.

 

When morning lifts from ritual winter

we Penelopize our chores to stay free.

 

Matriculation found in four-four time

in search of mahogany metronome.

 

Pacing oneself differs from outpacing

a competitor disguising a crush.

 

On Valentine's Day you were still conscious.

The one rose we had, bereft of fragrance.

Sheila E. Murphy is the recipient of the Gertrude Stein Award for her book Letters to Unfinished J. (Green Integer Press, 2003). Her most recent book is Golden Milk (Luna Bisonte Prods, 2020). Reporting Live from You Know Where won the Hay(na)Ku Poetry Book Prize Competition (Meritage Press (U.S.A.) and xPress(ed) (Finland), 2018). Also in 2018, Broken Sleep Books brought out the book As If To Tempt the Diatonic Marvel from the Ivory.