Bio Note: I am an Associate Professor of English at Colorado Christian University. I am a coffee snob by morning and a wine snob by evening. My collection of poems Beyond All Bearing was published by Wipf & Stock in 2018.
No longer baby, not yet boy, perfect skin, backyard tan a crown of curls, full pink lips, barefoot, spellbound, tiny man— You stand in thick damp grass, arms raised, palms open facing up. A plastic gadget froths and churns a cloud of bubbles floating up. These air-born soapy globes are yours. “Bubble, bubble,” you repeat, pointing as they rise, pop, and vanish into summer’s heat. Next year you will reach and grasp these magic shapes that never last.
ashes spread pale foreheads souls cling to solid things the light is always lengthening in one hemisphere in one urban garden a pastel crocus is on the move
No pleasantries. Six women wait, alone. Unalike save for the clinic gown. One taps her toe, a sandaled metronome. One quickly flips through Time, her head bent down. A wall of water dives through pastel green, inside a room of vulnerable breasts. One fears she has a cancer gene, a heartbreak that her history suggests. One remembers infants’ greedy lips, mornings half-asleep and milk-white nights. They all recall their lovers’ fingertips and conjure scenes of jeopardized delights. They breathe the common air. They wait. They turn away from eyes that mirror their concern.
“Lilac Gowns” first appeared in my collection Beyond All Bearing (Wipf and Stock, 2018)
©2020 Susan Spear
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