Author: fpoussin

Riding Scared
Fabrice Poussin

Miles from a past
and unto another destiny
lost in the midst of heavy fogs
skies crushing like missiles of Armageddon.

Upon the cape of a diminutive superhero
raging torrents assail the little heart
burning with fiery light crashing
onto the spokes of his noble palfrey.

Would-be warrior weary of the enemy
he cowers under the heavy air
aware of the constant hail
of thunderous threats.

Lines of steel shine far above the road
as it shivers with the same fears
a curtain stands as if a gate
between life and the unknown.

Home trembles in the distance
blurred in a vision he can no longer trust
warmth the gentle body imagines
awaits him near the hearth.

Another ride alone in the storm
a memory of a heroic near death
coming home at the speed of terror
to memorize another fable.

Papaw
Shea Cook

I barely remember you
Your face, your light
I wanted to look up to you
To imagine the world the way you did

You were my Papaw
I was your sweet pea
The product of
The youngest of your young

You were supposed to be my hero
But, I never got to know you
Too young when you left
I only see you in pictures

But those pictures are nothing
Compared to what real life is
Compared to making memories

But, you were sick
It was your time to go
I love you,
Papaw

Sincerely,
Sweet Pea

Spring Lily
Anna Lundy

when i
die
do not pity me

for I shall look down
upon you and
giggle—

forevermore,
a child
i shall be

notwithstanding
my absence from life
i am still alive

because of the red—
rose of love
picked, and flowing

for me and you
my black heart
white as the spring lily

Undressing
Kristin Towe

We tasted dusk:
a crushed blackberry sky,
dripping purple stain in rivers
between our sticky child fingers
blinking out stardust, an orange zest
that sticks in the grater, sticks in
his eyelashes, curled like a question

Mark this moment,
sister heart whispers,
sighs like tea whistles:

One day, middle May
we kept each other company
in a cloud canyon, on an old white quilt
my knee, sharp like an arrow
his bare foot, curved like a bow
raised and focused
between the panels of the blinds,

where the dusk undressed in shades of recipe.

The Inevitability of Runny Nose
David Thompson

The leaves reveal their true colors
At last, burnished bronze and gold
Glowing with radiance
A ceiling of tapestries.
The caresses of a summer breeze
Increase in intensity but bring a chill
And sundown creeps closer to high noon.
Laughter splits the darkening sky
As youngsters use the last vestige of daylight
To kindle their dwindling outdoor fun.
Boots crunch through leaves
Fingers reach toward rosy noses
And with one loud, defiant SNIFF
A child marks the arrival of fall.

 

September
Grace Wooddell

Chilly fingers;
A snap of frosty
Atmosphere
That catches us off guard;
A breeze that slips around
Our t-shirts
And sandals,
Finds the chinks
In our nonexistent armor,
Sweeps away our icecream cones,
Our movie nights, our cannonballs,
Waves goodbye to lazy freedom
And blows away our summer daydreams.

On Rereading Aesop’s Fables
Kristin Towe

Lately I have been reading Aesop’s fables
frog guts glued to eyelashes, and, at the bottom of the page
Never attempt the impossible.

but we are umber foxes, tail chasing, caught in headwinds
fur coat laden, hot blood sizzling on cold fingers

Lately you have been asking the sun for advice
as the butterflies kiss your petal soft skin
Do not expect constancy in others if you have none yourself.

for I saw the monarch, dancing feelers, stroke your face
and you turned to the sun, and only I would sift your ashes

Oh, let us burn the flowers, highest temperatures, furnace breath
and with them, put out the croaking madrigal, and love.

Fabrice Poussin

Fabrice Poussin

Fabrice Poussin