August 2022
Bio Note: The older I get the more I think about things that happened long ago. My poems come in waves, in between other things I am writing. I recently published my first novel, a historical fiction about a Renaissance woman artist, Sofonisba Anguissola. Meanwhile, poetry never goes away. Sometimes it just gets more quiet. Thank you for this community of writers, where inspiration is always waiting.
Our Molecules Will Remember
Through this love,
I became the timeless me.
Pain fell away and wrinkles
lay smooth again.
Joints were limber enough to dance
and I thought it was you that made me young.
But no, it was just a dream
and when you left, my grief was heavy
and the years weighed upon me
like stone. Some day,
I will dissolve and my grains
will scatter, just like yours.
And then, no matter what form we take,
we will find new ways to fall in love.
On the El with Dad
At Wabash, Dad pushes the turnstile
and we trudge though, climb up and up,
criss-cross stairs, mice in a maze.
The doors close and the train goes
and the walls come close and peel into
layers and layers of Chicago color.
We go ka-chunkety-chunk as the train
swings me and all the tired grown-ups
through a curve. I lean on Dad,
my safe place. The lights blink off,
blink on. I see ghosts of him and me
in the glass, but only in the tunnel.
Out the chute we pass, mere feet
from someone’s kitchen window.
People scurry home for spaghetti
while ka-chunkety-chunk, the train
snakes past bridges going nowhere,
over graveyards of cement mixers.
Now I'm a tired grown-up and Dad
is gone, but when I remember his hand,
I still get there, no matter where I am.
©2022 Lisa Vijos
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL