She Was Here Yesterday
In her ridge-soled combat boots,
a contemporary protest against
customary teen femininity rules,
much like her grandmother wore.
Today while she and her parents
drive the four hours to their home,
I am feeling lonely, with only
her size-nine rubber tracks
still exploring room by room,
and my mental image of her
seventeen-year-old body curled up
in my blue chair like she is still seven.
Something Like a Horizon
So there he lies, the one who beckoned the best
from me for so many years, whose love felt like sunrise
over the green Atlantic–fluid and sparkling atop the waves’ crests.
Each time I thought I would sink, his yellow-sun self rose high,
assuring constant warmth, light enough for me to blossom,
becoming something like a horizon.
Today he is so still, no light, no warmth, only the dark horizon.
And I may be drowning for lack of him.
When I Do Not Speak the Words
truth habitually
gives birth in private
W. S. Merwin
The ones I should have said,
it is most likely due to quaint
Southern social etiquette tugging
on the back of my tongue,
insisting that I not express
what ought to be spoken
in the moment of madness.
Grandmothers, mother, aunts, cousins–
we all suffer for the same cosey
constraints, which now may
have left you thinking that
I am not disturbed, am not aghast
at your recent behaviour.
But now that we’re alone…
Cooking with You Today
How many times have I heard the locks close
and the lark take the keys
and hang them in heaven
W.S. Merwin
As she is weakening, you wish
to feed her whatever she wants.
She asked me to teach you
to cook my specialty dish today.
Quietly, you spoke just a little bit
about what’s really happening,
for you and for her, then closed down,
locking real feelings behind a door
I could not open. I tried to search
your tired mind for the one key
that would unlock you to me,
might let me help you cope.
Not today, said your body.
The Swan
Believing no more the lies you told me,
nor those I tell myself, I opened
green eyes upon you, not detected
by personal sonar, not predicted
in today’s presumptive weather report,
yet there you were, one good eye cocked
as though you saw me drool or spit or cry.
Seeing me notice that you were watching me,
you lifted your chin slowly, elegantly,
like a swan straightening his neck
to appear his full height in battle.
Pamela Brothers Denyes - Pamela’s award-winning work is published in numerous journals, The Galway Review, Barstow & Grand V, Honeyguide Literary Magazine, international collections by The Poet Magazine, Vallum Poetry and many more. In 2022 she published a chapbook, As I Lay Dreaming, and Kelsay Books published her two full-length collections, The Right Mistakes and The Widow’s Lovers.
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