I am a writer and teacher.  My first chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is due Fall 2014, and my blog is jddehart.blogspot.com.  

Clippings


I have gathered the names and faces,
traced the paths back,
a not-so-ancient lineage.
I have found images of beauty
in fragments, joined them together,
and there you go.
I have put in my time with glue and
paper clips, obsessed over the combination
of colors (even though I have slight
defect in this area) only to find
I need a new hobby now.
 




Death of the Butterfly
 

Sure, at one time the wings were gossamer
and we had the promise of a beach vacation
and sure, the cocoon was lovely, if not a little
cramped and there was nectar.
Not in great quantities, mind you, but there
was nectar, but now –
the wings have been trampled, life has
happened once too often, the trees
no longer provide much shade, and we must
move on, let the balloon soar, and allow
passage, art, and time.





Bear House
 

They tire of the too small,
too big conversations, the constant
comparisons; at least Snow White
had the courtesy to sleep a while
and Cinderella disappeared in her pumpkin
for a carriage ride into the night.
This girl just sits on the couch, whining,
threatening teenage pregnancy,
smearing on acne medicine,
then takes the car out late without permission,
eats all the porridge – cold, hot, she does not care
“Eating for two,” she teases, and they roll
their eyes, thinking:  Where did we go wrong,
Was it the late bed-time, too many video games?
When is she going to get a job?
 




The Clown Has Fallen
 

We should all be saying Oh no
because he was the one who kept us sane,
giving us jokes, even about ourselves.
Somehow we still laughed.
But now he has taken a tumble, perhaps
drinking a bit too much, climbing a bit
too high – or, worse yet, has taken flight
on purpose, leaving us with no consolation
of cheer or diversion.
 




Taking out the Trash
 

It could turn into a walk down the lane,
a chance meeting with fate.
I picture a man driving by, offering millions,
but it is as likely as Charon swimming to the curb
offering a ride to the Underworld.
So the trash gets taken out, the decaf gets made,
lesson plans are done (they are never really done),
and I wonder if Odysseus took out the garbage
when he made it back to Ithaca.