Poem: Waxing

her cold reflection
of tomorrow's sunshine
tells a future in secret code
the rainbows in my eyes blind me
listening for the sacred words,
I hear night birds on the wing
the lonesome call of coyote;
this is still the desert, yet
no longer wilderness
it's hard to hear my breath,
to focus on the slow draw in,
silent exhale, repeat,
inhalation...
     expiration...
it's late and gibbous moon
reveals that tomorrow will come
perhaps, there will still be breath
and night birds to cast spells
in cackling magick words
I understand, but only
in my dreams

(c) 4.27.18

Poem: Reclamation

Coyote laughs as he wanders into the city.
Ancestral, remembers when it was his, stars in velvet.
Full moon a circle, fast food over the hilltop,
creatureless eyes move ever closer.

Grandmother Spider's webs weave
through westerly waters.
Thirsty ground, drinking too fast,
regurgitates.

Pennies drop into hungry slots,
minerals torn from the Mother's breast.
Coyote tilts his head to listen -
London Bridge is falling down.

In the distance, the city
seems to sleep
Sometimes, death is more
like dreaming.

(c) 20 July 2015
Inspired by He Was 65, a work by Fred Mecklenburg

Poem: Sunset

She took up smoking in her later years
Not the thin white paper cigarettes
Of her forebears but dark,
Deep-flavored cigarillos, held
Loose between two fingers, deep drags
And heavy sighs of satisfaction
Once a day, perhaps two, sitting back
Gently running a finger around
The lip of her glass, a taste of
Sweet Moscato or sherry, like a
Delicate Amantillado, sweet revenge
Against a life of discontent
Beneath a great arbor of Lady Banks
She found pleasure in the garden he tended
The subtle scent of basil, the fragrant
Desert soil wet with the evening libation
Dusk darkening, the two of them counted
Diamonds as they glittered into sight,
One by one, the sun slipping into a crimson west
When the night lay full upon them, the last
Draughts of spirits poured out as memories
Tobacco crumbled into ashtray, an offering of sorts
They took one another’s hand like teenagers, laughing
Left behind the sleeping garden, cat curled in his corner
Night birds singing familiar melodies, coyote in the
Distance reciting desert poetry, accompanied
By the rhythm of lover’s dreams, expectant


© 17 May 2014 – Suzy Jacobson Cherry