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Monday Meditations

This poem is 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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© 2018 by Marcella Remund

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