November 2024
Bio Note: I’m the author of several books, including The Ethereal Effect – A Collection of Villanelles (Kelsay Books, 2022). On a Clear Night, I Can Hear My Body Sing is forthcoming from Kelsay Books in 2025. I serve as a poetry editor for the online literary magazine Halfway Down the Stairs and find joy spending time outdoors and with loved ones.
Photo credit: Jeannie E. Roberts
—for my son
where the dumpster shines in afternoon light
and riverbank grape entwines with poplar,
she waits inside the cab of his GMC Sierra.
He seeks beef jerky, the Maloney’s Baloney
brand. As she observes her surroundings,
a nearby shed prompts attention. Its door
punctuates luster in layers of weatherworn
paint, reflects #7FFFDA, the Hex Color
Code for aquamarine. Its intensity diverts
the delay as her internal lens enters the clarity
of motherhood, the years when life gleamed
like a clean pickup bound for adventure,
sparkled with splashes in an inflatable pool,
held the spirit of gusto, when devotion rushed
to meet child-sized hugs and the bond of belonging.
Photo credit: Jeannie E. Roberts
Like the walking taco where you eat and ambulate with simultaneous focus the walking self-portrait greets and photographs as a way of nourishment— Hi or Hey have a great day words to lift the passersby leaven your spirit. Neighborhood walks contain cheese chips and meat the fuel of metaphor. Sustenance stands where the oaks maples and evergreens rise where glass ornaments hang and broken mirrors brighten the alley reflect your existence and your deep gratitude for it.Note: the walking taco is a midwestern term for an on the go meal that consists of a bag of tortilla chips filled with taco ingredients.
Photo credit: Jeannie E. Roberts
I sustain myself with the love of family. —Maya Angelou
We stood beside my grandparents’ garage,
gathered for a family photo.
My aunt wore an organza sunhat.
My sister carried a basketful of sunshine.
My mother beamed clad in sunglasses
as my toothless glee teetered
on the outer edges of my feet.
My brother grinned in brotherly accord
as restraint held my foreign-born grandfather
and grandmother in glad agreement.
We celebrated the arrival of my aunt and infant cousin.
They’d traveled from Sweden; we honored their return home.
I sustain myself with the love of family,
remember when lineage meant loyalty,
nothing more—
back in the gracious days
of ‘64.
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 important to community building at Verse Virtual. -JL