He’s worked now for a quarter century
repairing locks and understanding keys.
His focus trained on home security,
he doesn’t make allowance for the ease
of safety on the bus. He cannot see
a walk without his bear-spray expertise.
Like retailers who claim most shoppers steal,
this locksmith’s life perspective is unreal.
(Ottava Rima)
When I worked every weekday at a job,
I suffered now and then at getting done
a task or ten the calendar would lob
as deadline loomed, depending on someone
to answer me, return a call or run
a program I provided with due care
and courtesy. The blockage wasn’t fair
but had to be endured. Then suddenly
all wrong resolved and cleared the office air.
Life seesaws still, but not as speedily.
(Dizain)
When I was young, and even in my prime,
I escalated eating with the day.
No breakfast, little lunch – by dinnertime
my appetite would rarely go away.
The calories reserved did not allay
my hunger – so I munched and added weight.
But now I’m old and changed – I write to say
most days I only chew from 1 to 8.
(Huitain)
The dreams I screened last night contained machines:
a washer (twice), an elevator, car,
and telephones. I don’t know what it means,
for nothing broke and no one went too far.
They seemed vignettes of ordinary scenes,
myself as witness or the active star.
My sleep was stuttered but I rested well.
I’ve no foreboding memories to tell.
(Ottava Rima)
Is something there, atop my place of ease?
I’m hearing thumping lately from somewhere
above, that’s like a mammal scratching fleas.
Is something there?
A roof-explorer in the upper air?
Or is a skunk inside, that brings unease?
I smelled that musk last night in noisome flare…
I tolerate these critters in degrees
surprising to my friends, but still, I care.
Now I’m beset by ceiling mysteries.
Is something there?
(Roundel)
Her story’s interesting till 23.
Her childhood was challenging by far –
she lived with functional insanity,
and grandma love and dwelling in a car,
and moving west to better care, but still
adventuring alone a lot abroad.
She managed by the force of surging will
to conquer obstacles.
She grew up flawed,
or course, yet well enough to thrive,
but then she chose to be a bureaucrat.
The benefits and pay kept her alive,
and vodka flowed. She reckoned “diplomat”
her calling, but there’s fiction in that name –
the 50 years ensuing have been lame.
We gathered for a dinner Saturday –
three aging siblings with our mother, who
attains age 98 this week. We play
as ever well together – only two
most visits (Three’s 500 miles away) –
but this feast reunited all her crew.
Her praise and warmth that night was nothing faint.
It took a day before I heard complaint.
(Ottava Rima)
The 19th of October was the last
hot day we had this year this near the bay.
A month after the equinox had passed,
our weather granted autumn chilly sway.
We even saw some rain in our forecast.
The time has come to pack the fans away
and change the heater filters, to prepare
for almost 7 months of cooler air.
(Ottava Rima)
When I moved in the sliding door was old,
yet it was lockable for 15 years
before it acted iffy and its hold
grew unreliable. But I’d no fears
about security. My little place
is hidden from the street, by most unknown.
There isn’t much that door guards in this space;
I wasn’t driven to protect the zone.
But breach befell, and I called for repair,
surprised to learn it’s easier to fix
a door as old as mine – more parts are spare
available, and locksmiths know their tricks.
I didn’t guess until I watched someone
at work, how glad I’d be the job was done.
I’m better now the package has been mailed,
with check and forms collated best I could.
Since then the steady worries that assailed,
persistent stress that does no body good,
abated, and the noise in neighborhood
has eased the last few days (but just for now).
Inhaling deeply as my lungs allow,
I sigh an exhalation of relief,
arrange to get a lock repaired, and bow
in gratitude I have no cause for grief.
(Dizain)
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