| Issue 3:1 | Poetry | Danielle Thorne |
3 Poems
by
Danielle Thorne
Reunion
The people
across the street
Wave on
occasion
But we're
not that friendly
Seeing as
I'm not invited
To the
obvious party
Leaking out
of their house.
Next door
Thompson frowns,
Rolling his
eyes like marbles
As he moves
his truck into the garage.
I ignore
his discomfort and inhale
Sweet smoky
pork; southern heaven.
The mailbox
is empty so I saunter
Back up the
drive, smiling at the children
Dancing
over the sidewalks,
Bouncing up
and down
On the
backs of their family cars.
There must
be a hundred people
On that
subdivided plot.
Up and down
the block
I see the
angst in the windows,
Concern
from the porches,
As all my
neighbors
Suck in
their breath
And chew
their lips like cows.
Nobody
across the street looks worried.
They just
look happy,
And hungry,
And lucky.
None of
them could care less
The rest of
us are white.
Fish Story
Cliff said
a hammerhead shark
Lived in
the pond.
Behind his
trailer,
Climbed a
path to a small ridge.
There
through young trees
Hid his mysterious
clearing.
The pond,
deep and murky,
Had a
rickety pier
And peeling
red canoe.
I skirted
the pool on fast tiptoe
And kept
the water
In the
corner of my eye.
Never in
all my years,
Did a
silver triangle of death
Split the
surface
And release
the scream
That brewed
in my throat
Like thick
stew,
Ready to
disgorge if the liar,
The old
grownup liar,
Was telling
the truth.
Driving The Blue Ridge Parkway
To Visit My Mother’s Grave
Heaven touches soft my heartWhen I can set the world apartAnd wander where the road should pauseBut leads into eternal halls. Deep in the shadowed woods escapeWhere old green giants kindly drape Great leafy arms about my head,And leave a blessing in their stead. The peeping sun can only chanceA casual kaleidoscope-like dance.And wind, his partner, hold their courseUntil they sweep, a dappled horse, Into the dark where I can't seeForgotten friends who wait for me.
