Grey Sparrow Journal

Summer 2010, Issue 5

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First Published in Issue 2, Fall 2009
 
 
Poetry by Lesley Weston
 

Dustbowl

Day rose clear

Blue beautiful.
Green too much
to ask, we didn't
Muddy sheets
torn from windows
to tubs, scrubbing
singing, our labor
in bubbles floating

Stretched arms and legs
pitiful grateful for sunlight
softened by rain, sweetness

of damp-rich air.

Five year old Andrew,
Dandelion-headed Jack
their cracked, bare feet
running circles spiraling dust

devils caught a butterfly.
Faces of wonder cauled

in red, wide-eyed laughing
at the wing-dust shimmering

omen streaking fingers
soon, too soon to be angels

Came the mountain
fast and black
across the plain.

From war's wheat-fallowed
fields, ten thousand feet
of dirt wept shrouds.
Tiny hands sparked against
hands ringing tinder-strike

Halo of burning hair.

We, who there survived
closed our eyes against the blazing dark.


Copyright © Lesley Weston 2009.




She Haunts

 

Even nightmares

would I welcome.

For I never thought

Death would stop her

wandering in and out

my open door. Of course

her spirit would be

decorous; I expected

knockings and window

rattling her creaking

bones squeaks on the floor.

I never dreamed she would

drop never rise again to soothe

my sleep or carelessly caress

my hair in knots now

I know it is too late

for her to comfort me

that living after her is so

final and unfair.