Elena's Dollar

 

Elena’s Dollar

Elena who paints her eyes green
gives greenbacks to Greenpeace.
Abandoned by husband (she blames pollution)
and by friends (a bit strident, she is)
she hires me when a water pipe detaches
from her one room shack which
is sliding down a green hillside.

Elena is none too happy about any of it:
the slow landslide like a lover’s betrayal,
the emergency repair charge of $100
though anybody else would charge $300.
I tell her it’s my “friendly rate,”
though she’s no friend.

She pays with a sheaf of ones and fives
plus a jar of quarters and dimes.
“Count if you don’t trust me.”
I tell her it’s about accuracy not trust
so I count while she scowls and then
I give back one quarter, two dimes.

Back home early. Rose is there.
Idly fingering the money she says “Elena
needs to get loved or at least laid
but how do you hug a cocklebur?”
She finds an extra dollar, says I should return
but the kids come home, the dog needs a walk,
shoes and paws are wet, dinner needs
to cook and serve.

When I finally see Elena she says
to keep that greenback, she has cancer
and it won’t be long, anything left will go to
the hospital’s giant sucking treasury.
“You should have charged me more.
I’ll probably never see you again.”
She blames pollution. Okay, okay,
I’ll donate a dollar to Greenpeace.

…..

First published in Sheila-Na-Gig  — thank you editor Hayley Mitchell Haugen
Image by David J Roberts

Just a quick note to say

 

Just a quick note to say

loons are calling
sounds like Corinna
    Coh-
        reen-
            ah…
as my heart calls for you.

Silent moon is splitting calm water
with yellow beam oh how I wish
I were parting your hair.

Eleven mergansers survived the summer
(used to be eighteen), swam a cautious circle
around the big boulder and then one by one
flapped onto the flat top where they preen
watchful for the bald eagle
and are you safe
are the windows locked?

Something splashed I think a mink.
I miss you and your minky parts.

…..

First published in Rat’s Ass Review — thank you editor
Roderick Bates

The Opposite of Hate

 

The Opposite of Hate

Singin' in the shower.  
Peanut butter. Daisies.
Weathered barn boards
are the opposite of hate.

Playmate. Roller skate.
Rhyme is the opposite of hate.

Balloons. The only thing
you should ever blow up
is a balloon.

Skinny-dips.
Swimmin’ hole, hot afternoon.
Buck-naked is the opposite of hate.

…..

Note: When I shared this poem with friends, they added “cake” and “dark chocolate” as the opposite of hate. You can add your own. Please.

Anna’s Hummingbird

 

Anna’s Hummingbird

On this careless planet
little Jacob shouts I found a bird!

I warn Jacob not to touch.
I tell Jacob it’s an Anna’s Hummingbird.
Fluffed, huddled on gravel over tiny feet.
Jacob says Anna’s vibrating. She’s cold.

I tell Jacob a hummingbird heart
can beat a thousand times a minute.
Mine too.

Our kickball game forgotten.
Can’t you do something?

I take off my shirt, slip it under like a gurney.
Anna flutters, makes faint peeping noises.
She’s scared!

I carry shirt and bird to the carport, bunch the
fabric like a nest, place under a lamp for heat.
We’re trying to help you, Anna.

She lies on her side, feet outstretched.
He who could never sit still, crouches.
Get warm, Anna.

I could tell him. I don’t.
But I’m shivering, I want my shirt back.
Jacob whispers as if blowing into tiny lungs
Breathe, Anna!

Heat lamp glowing, tenderly he waits.
Our hearts are slowing, spirits growing.

…..

First published in Sheila-Na-Gig. Thank you editor Hayley Haugen.
Photo by Julie Martin