BFWP: Grains, Plain Grains

[JBuck22874 at aol.com]

For Angie, Sarah & Laura:

I guess this is the only way I really know how to say "thank you" for 
listening and sharing yourselves. I hope you don't consider this an 
intrusion; writing is just kind of what I do when something touches me.

Warmly,

janet


BFWP - LOL


Grains, Plain Grains

There were fonts of granted dreams
steering along a moonlit beach
as if two legs would always be
two candles in their silver cups.
Funny how the corpse of easy
washes up the shrinking shore.
"I hate those stupid, silky ads
for pantyhose: 'Hanes Her Way' ..."
as if these lines of grief don't show
and crease a withering world.
I miss the way I used to dance.
One thigh brushing body hairs,
sweat that came from sexiness,
not climbing hills consigned to up
and rarely down unless I rolled
like centipedes protective
of the wounded heart.

"At least I am alive," I'll say.
I'll love my arms for trees they trim --
every yard has weeping willows
somewhere in its acreage.
Give me Hell and stumbling
above defeat of sitting still.
I'll gather wilting irises,
broken seashells in my hands.
Dromedary depths of sadness
liquefying into art.
I'll embrace what's left 
of feeble, guarded steps
for mountains they have mastered well.
A pilgrimage from grain to grain,
feeling little but my will
between the toes this fate erased.

by Janet I. Buck