First Published Issue 1, Summer 2009
Two Poems by Lisa M. Cronkhite
BALCONY PHOTO
It was a side view of the beach,
with a lush-gardened golf course below
and palm trees swaying to the west.
A thin stretch of sand jutted out
into the ocean, forming a slight curl
at the tip. She looked out, into
the ripple of clouds from the 15th floor
balcony of the flesh-colored hotel.
Blonde ribbons wildly wrapping
in the wind with a soft smile on her face.
It's the only picture with the balcony.
Dad never told me why
they had to move to the first floor when
they vacationed there. The only photo
she took—with her hair down.
blue flame
i wasn’t gonna tell her, i swear
but she knew she had it all along
exit signs are just a tease
they should read, ‘enter at your own risk’
and if the door was closed
the church bells would still ring
maybe if the windows were round
she would be able to puke out some words
i took a seat on the cold hardwood floor
to count how many times the ceiling fan clicked
it didn’t matter the water was boiling over
the scorched scent came from her skin
she always did like the blue flames
coming from the stove-saying--
nothing is more beautiful.
Copyright © Lisa M. Cronkhite 2009.