Kathleen Rogers

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Carol's Christmas

Ghost of Christmas Past
 
Hanging up my Christmas stocking
Angry with my mother’s mocking   
 
Neighbors gathering and gawking 
Mother’s body cops are chalking 
 
She won’t laugh again
She won’t laugh again
 
Ghost of Christmas Present
 
Daughter sparkles hope and light 
Our beloved Christmas sprite
 
Christmas Eve a joyful night
Christmas day is her delight
 
She won’t hurt at all
She won’t hurt at all
 
Ghost of Christmas Future
 
Left behind and all alone 
Christmas in a nursing home
 
Far away my child has grown
Busy family of her own
 
Please just pull the plug
Please just pull the plug

colors

The wind is changing. Cloth awnings flutter their skirts ....like an Indian raindance.
 
Maybe she'll make it home before the clouds are ....overcome by moodiness.
 
Can she avoid the grey eyes? She was cruel before she ....left.
Steel grey. Still grey. And she's so foggy anyway.
 
A life held together by duct tape.
Sometimes a sticky thread gets caught.
He is pulled, lightly.
Turns his head, slightly.
A few feel her gray cashmere heart
with the kind of heat that starts out fuzzywarm and ends ....up draining like a hot tub.
But no one's accused her of practicing narcolepsy ....without a license.

daddy's girl

hail! a new birth
another mouth to feed
such a
reckless breed
no time for pictures
or carving initials
on the twisted family tree
my father delighted
with a girl
until i could ask
why?

the debutant

winter they dreamed
hyacinth spring
beauty climbs
in braided vines

visitation rituals
he and she properly
chaperoned games
cards, chess    
reciting safe poems
for eavesdropping ears

risky hand
holding under
card table
ebullient eyes
meet and melt

this the longest winter
endured only
for the debutantes’ ball
her coming out
into society her
coming fully
into his embrace

optimistic ballroom gowns
privileged giggles calculate
best matches
a comfortable life
highest social circles

she searched the grand
ballroom eyes
all shopping
for handsome promises
assured futures

she’s sixteen, ready to be seen
he slipped from her grip
as was the promised
debutante kiss

held her hidden tears
behind the
punch
bowl she hears
he and a different deb
fled and wed

he, too, calculated
best matches
a future assured

Thoughts on turning 44

i’ve been a boy
             a girl
i’ve been on top of things
            and people
all with a head
            full of madness
a heart filled
            with gladness
is combustible 

I lOve nOrman rOckwell

a star in the east went super nova
sepia-toned sparrows crow
vultures dance with doves in cerulean sky
 
every secret never shouted shakes a tree
bloodless bodies count
the days until christmas mourning
beatitude babies, jet car jelly, everybody smile!

Laugh a Little Louder

Laugh a little louder, please
You see, I can’t hear your smiles
 
Not a sound coming round
since the fairies
flew far
Your bedroom door
so closed
Your mood
so cold
This long-predicted
break
splinters dry
childhood to ash
 
 
Faded, loving, loyal
doll tucked away not tucked in
Mamma’s hand, dropped
Her approval not sought
What does a mother know
when you’re seventeen?
 
Laugh a little louder, please
You see, I can’t hear your smiles

dinner: family holiday

a map you read
familiar space
the obvious explained

shadow dancing past
sideways driveways
black as fault

no secrets exposed
what's left to tell
when all is known
uncertain truths

grande dame

thick, sick perfumed parlor
an organ among many
a real raucous melody
other organs bewail
false high notes
 
 dressed in sunday’s best
a smokey parlor gilded settees
lounge like a gentleman
till a stocking seam runs astray
cravat strangles adam’s apple 
 
pushed up
creamy, dreamy moons
some day man will land on one
insert flag
claim possession
this smokey parlor
girls for rent, gonorrhea extra

staring into the sun

winnow through the crinoline
silk smoke, laughter
mohitos, cosmos
mint julep
beer
yes friends, relatives
they’re all here

honeymoon with laptops
five-star poolside
sexting to twitter
just not to
each other

Have a Heart

Bit her heart. Bled real nice. Sucking the jugular, convincing her it’s good to bleed. She’s
the take out food you always eat in. Her Haiku conversations you couldn’t hear. Fuzzy reality wedged in your ear. He made a cup of tea. Poured boiling water over a burning candle. The teacup was left holding the bag. Heavy as a vacant lot, beautiful only because she’s dying.

Swimming

Shoot the moon. Arrest a star. Shackle me now. My world failed so let’s mess in yours. I drew squares and felt boxed in. You drew circles and got dizzy. Here, put your nausea in this case. We’ll give it to an epicurean daring him to taste. When he reels, we’ll check for a sheath or evidence of circumcision. I’ll talk to your mother, your brother, discover your sister. Meanwhile, in Heaven, the screen door slammed in our summer breeze faces.

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