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Monday Meditations
This poem from my new book, Hysterian, first appeared in the anthology Tangled Serenity from Scurfpea Press (Scurfpea).
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Threshold
I'm a dweller on the threshold
As I cross the burning ground
Let me go down to the water
Watch the great illusion drown
–Van Morrison
On one side is a doctor’s wife.
A lamb roast sizzles in the oven.
Limp pastel daisies wilt on linen
napkins in an antiseptic kitchen.
Her eyebrows form perfect
inverted Vs. Highrise, box-blonde
hair sets off a constant smile,
her white eyelet apron barely
brushing each dinner guest.
On the other side is a madwoman
dancing down an unlit alley,
black choir robe tied at the waist
with clothesline. Her cowboy
boots grind broken bottles
into gravel. She spins, dips,
sings blackbird has spoken
like the first bird, disappears
into the dark, a vanishing angel.
I’m on the threshold, slower,
more careful now, a beaded
purse suspended from my
wrist, Fool tarot cool and slick
in my other hand. I’m afraid
to move, afraid of falling, framed
in fog and moonlight that reflect
just now off bleach-blonde hair
and the burnt tip of an angel wing.
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