wings

Jerry's wing

A guest post and iPad drawing from the supremely talented Jerry Leibowitz.

 

i remember

when these wings

were ribs

and that late afternoon

in a february fog

as a bent man

stepped safely to the curb

in the moment

a cab driver

inadvertently swerved

to check his watch

and the ache

in my chest

my ribs

uncurling backward

 

and i remember

when these wings

were ribs

and the grey early morn

doused with dew

as the buck

twitched at a fly

barely evading

the hunter’s bullet

 

and i recall

a pocketful of hours

before a dawn

when a child awoke

to battering voices

from a faraway room

dangerously close

then somehow

transcended fear

suspended doubt

and accepted calm

that followed

as reassurance

that things

 

would be better

and they were

 

i remember

when these wings

were ribs

and the agony

the rapture

as they

straightened

and curled backward

bones emulsifying

to mist and light

as i climbed

the great olive tree

to find a nest

full of fine down

and small feathers

that once belonged

to sparrow chicks

that now beckoned me

from higher branches

to follow

their ascension.

Happiness

Happiness

Let’s make the decision

right now

I’m talking to you

to be a little happier

 

I don’t care what tragedy

of the day

is giving you the

Best Ragging Excuse Ever

 

I need some positivity

today And you’re going to give it to me

That’s right you

Listen up

 

Citizen’s United

No jobs

A job for crappy pay

Aches

Headaches

Relationship angst

Short-term memory loss

Nasty boss

Self-absorbed co-worker

Neck sag

Carpal tunnel in the right wrist

Not gonna cut it

 

You’re gonna suck it up

for me

and only me

because you’re all I’ve got

Lemon

Guest Post by Deborah Fletcher Blum

lemon_small

 

Lemon is like a question. It wants something from you. But it wants to hold onto that thing for itself too. It gives and takes back. Is tart and zesty and willful. Sometimes totally irrational. And it is yellow, because the sound is perfect for the taste.

 

I squeeze you for juice and drink you up.

I always loved you raw and didn’t care that I was teased for it.

You wanted to be something people can handle only in small doses.

You like that about yourself.

It means you are strong.

 

Deborah Fletcher Blum has taught art and English at schools in Kenya, New York, and L.A. She studied painting and liberal arts in college and has always been fascinated by cultural differences and “samenesses.” She is writing a middle grade novel set in Kenya.