Poem: Susan’s Monsoon Afternoon

A Tucson Arizona monsoon

 

Susan’s Monsoon Afternoon

By Shannon P. Laws

The window did not care
that it was open
Neither did the curtains
concern themselves with being wet
The wind was indifferent
it blows where it wants

But Susan’s hand cared
as it slapped the window shut
That hand connected to the arm
the arm to the shoulder
shoulder to torso
carrying the head

the head that sent the
electrical currents and
held the soul of Susan
Those bits cared

that the new curtains were
dripping with the afternoon monsoon
blowing in the open window
behind the red couch

They forgot to set the alarm again

Someone was going to be pissed
about the puddle on the hardwood floor

But neither the wood, the glass
or the sheer of the curtain screamed

The cat is outside crouched under her car

The figure on the coffee table is tipped over
—and the TV is gone

The kitchen light is on

A shadow runs towards the back door
and someone is upstairs in her bedroom

 

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Poem: Nightly Spirit

 

ghost_picture

 

Tickle my ear at three in the morning

Brush the bottom of my foot with mist

 

See the dreams I carry that do not rhyme

Remember the fallen that rest in the corner of the eye

A phase-shift out of reach, stuck in the web of mind

 

Take the tack off the desk

Move the keys under the couch

Roll the pencil out of reach

 

But never talk to me as one who is dead,

My breath’s bank of days still holds cash

 

-by Shannon Laws