Friday, March 31, 2017

No Yams For me Please




i knew her when the years had rubbed the edges
              off her hunger
              off her fear

she was able to leave
a bit on a plate at dinner
         then

though she still felt
the need
to push it in her mouth

sidelong looks
at a piece of pork
left near the edge
             a taunt
                or a game

but there were months,
years ago
when she eagerly
pushed aside a corpse
or       two
to get to the yams underneath

she knew they were there
death's stench
only an
       obstacle.

copyright Audrey Howitt 2017

Process Note: I should probably change the title of this piece to Refugee's Tales or something along this line--this is a true person and this was her history during the Second World War--I wrote this piece originally as Trump's first Muslim ban came out--

Posted today for Poet's United and for Dverse







Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Ferocity of Weeds



weeds bloom.

their ferocity pushes tiny heads up
next to the lettuces,
their heads so alike
that discernment
is discretionary,

an ambulatory experience
of chance.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

The Sky At Fourteen



standing, with knees dimpled,
she watches the sky turn.
its colors, impermanent;

yellows and browns
fill her mouth
as the sky staples itself to her tongue
and whispers into her ears,
silken threads, lay down its symbols.

in the distance,
clouds rob the horizon of trees,
pocket them
into snow's cotton,

the remainder, are but
chess pieces on a board
yet to be played.
when the rains come.

silent,
she feels tiny lacerations
in the corners below her eyes
where cardboard cheeks
can catch the tears that fall.

Audrey Howitt copyright/all rights reserved 2017

Posted for Poets United Pantry


Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The Silent Muse

silent among shards, she sits
scrawling messages
for the brave

the initial shock
of beneficence
mistaken in a shaded hallway, as

rudderless quips
f l o w
each tethered more closely around
the violence that spins
isolated
in a hurricane's eye

      waiting
for me to pick
any shard

and scrawl with her




copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017

Posted for Poets United Pantry

Thursday, February 2, 2017

colorblind



Morgue File
Lauramusikanski



grey is the color of limbo
sifting our lives on scales
where sand has no meaning

grey is the color of sin
left out in the snow
too long to know its shape

grey folds itself into
origami cranes of death
peace its only equivalent currency

can we wait for the sun to rise again
its light, a mitigation
a blurring of color

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017

Posted for Poets United Pantry and for dVerse OLN


Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Hospital Lessons



i learned about humility
and hope
watching those
who take pain away

watched their duty
shed grace
as easily
as lifting an arm

applying ice
to wounds new and old
so that this old body can rally
once again.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017


I am back from the hospital after a full hip replacement. And am amazed and grateful at the care I have and am receiving.



Sunday, January 8, 2017

January Afternoons




MorgueFile


light is long on short days.
our eyes are drawn to it
measuring out its warmth
stretching its path
on wooden floors
from one room to the next

i will its heat
inside me
warping planks
pulling up nails
transfixing eyes

late afternoons are like that
its just the nails
that I am not too fond of
anymore.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2017

Posted for Poets United Pantry