Cacophony
The room is quiet and still, the TV off and the dog sleeping at my feet.
The noise is in my head
A series of conversations once had,
Viewed from a director’s chair
Some revised to alter the long-ago outcome.
A perpetual and persistent screening of the life I’ve lived
Juxtaposed against the storyboard of the life I sought.
Think not of those painful things,
Leave them on the cutting room floor.
The more I try to forget, the bolder the memory.
Don’t think of a white polar bear!
It’s already taking shape in my mind.
Don’t think about the days of loss and mourning
When the salty tears strained your cheeks
And you wandered wraith-like through the empty hours.
Focus on the now.
Play out the scene, tight-lipped, eyes brimming with unscripted tears.
Let your mind explore those sweet snatches of innocent childhood,
Sun-bleached hair, long legs stretched out in the ocean,
Arms slightly sculling the waves that gently rock us
Eyes closed in sublime surrender to the salty sea.
A Good Morning
I woke up this morning,
Somewhat surprised,
As I swim toward consciousness
And leave the storied land of dreams behind
I blink and acknowledge the sunlight
Filtering through my curtained window,
A soft caress to say hello.
I swing my legs to the floor and survey my surroundings
Nothing has changed since yesterday.
The clock still ticks silently
As each second slides into the next
My shoes still stand vigil at the foot of my bed,
My hairbrush rests upon the dresser
Anticipating my touch, waiting to thread through my long grey hair
All is as it should be
I smile, gratefully,
Ready to greet the day
Assignation: to E.A. Poe
Huddled together under starlit sky, upward gazing, hands entwined
Mouths parted in ecstatic OHS,
Stars streaking, planets lumbering across the darkness
Moonbeams dancing in unchartered lines.
We rendezvous, as they do, at this appointed day and time.
I turn to you and breathe you in
In silent adoration.
I twine my body around yours. I feel your warmth, your strength.
I touch your cheek
And whisper my heart's desire.
Your lips brush mine, igniting passion
As we speak in whispered moans.
Under the stars so vast and distant,
Our destiny unfolds.
We rendezvous this one last time
Ignoring all the risks, the impediments we know tomorrow brings.
We watch the night sky fade, stars dimming
Succumbing reluctantly to the dawn,
As do we, to play the hand we're dealt,
The laughing Joker in the deck upturned.
An anguished last embrace, a long lingering backward look
Before being swept away under the Bridge of Sighs.
Your words linger long after you are gone:
“Tomorrow, my love. At our chosen place.”
Kathleen Chamberlin is a retired educator living in Albany, New York. She began writing creatively during the quarantine period of Covid-19. Her writing has appeared in both print and online journals and anthologies. In addition to writing, she enjoys gardening, genealogy, and grandchildren.
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