From the Well

 We tried again. Lowered 

the bucket down the well. 

This time, he climbed atop. 

Grasped the rope and held 

on, feet occasionally

 bouncing off the continuous 

rough rock wall around him. 

 

But this time, this time 

his toes didn't wedge 

between the rocks to hold 

him against our straining 

up top, pulling with all 

our might. The higher 

 

he rose toward our voices 

and the pale sky, the lighter 

he became. Maybe this time 

he would cast off the bricks 

and boulders he'd been carrying 

that kept him at the bottom 

of the well. Maybe this time 

he would make it to the light. 

Poignancy Wafflebottom

The saloon doors slammed open to reveal a buxom woman silhouetted against the fading sun. In truth, this woman was well padded not just above the waist, but also below, such that an hourglass would pale by comparison.

She squinted into the smoky room, lifting one corner of her upper lip and revealing a ragged set of brownish teeth. She snorted and spit a wad of tobacco and phlegm with perfect trajectory into the spittoon situated next to Wide Burp with such force that it jangled his spurs.

Burp tipped his hat back to get a better look at the newcomer, unveiling an enormous proboscis and a lazy eye. His good eye locked upon the figure in the doorway and an involuntary intake of air nearly sucked the flame from the candle on his table.

Burp quickly stood, shoulders back, chest out, and belly sucked in as much as was humanly possible.

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat flirtatiously. “Won’t you join me?”

She paused for a moment, looking into his good eye (his lazy eye wandered up and down her form), before sashaying over and placing her enormous gloved hand onto his extended palm.

“Wide Burp, at your service.” A slight bow accompanied his words.

“Poigancy Wafflebottom,” she replied in a sultry baritone, giving his hand a bone-crunching squeeze. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Burp knew his life would never be the same. But he was instantly head over heels in love (or was it lust) with Poignancy Wafflebottom, and there was no going back. She was his destiny.

Emergency Room Slide

I stand outside his room

my back to the wall.

 

Hospital staff walk by.

Some push equipment

others chat in strolling pairs

None of them look at me.

 

Their eyes slide past.

I am not a person here.

Just a figment attached

to a room number

and its patient in distress.

Eavesdropping

From where I sit in my office 

door closed

trying to write, 

the dishwasher sounds like 

a hushed conversation. 

I try to discern the discourse. 

Maybe it could become dialogue 

in my latest story. 

But it remains vague. 

As frustrating as eavesdropping 

on my grandparents, 

trying to gain inside information regarding 

gifts and other secrets, 

but their low voices 

coupled with the German they spoke, 

kept me properly completely mystified.

Secret

She knew a secret.
It was not heavy.
It was not difficult.
It was neither gray sky
nor thunder loud.

 

Instead, it was light
as an autumn leaf twirling
on an easy breeze.
It was a brilliant sunrise
quiet as a whisper.

 

Her secret was kindness
in the face of indifference.
It was the promise of a rainbow
after the raging storm.
It was love in a time of anger.

Late August

 In late August, the honey in my little plastic bear

has turned to near solid amber,

zinnias still stand tall but now with

yellowed leaves,

gayfeather have lost their luster,

white cone flowers show black bug bites,

and autumn creeps ever closer.

Bedlam

Conflicting statements

rescinded truths

screams and rants and shouts

and wails.

Faces tense with rage

insincere smiles 

and pouting mouths

spilling lies and bile.

And then there's 

raucous bird song

drumming rain

sighing winds and

deep exhales.

Exit the bedlam.

Save yourself.