Author: cfblack
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Barista Wipes Hands on Apron
Barista knows grief takes its sugar With small baptisms of steam and milk Places a blessing on the counter without spilling Affirms love is never sinful — With small baptisms of steam and milk She watches hands tremble toward warmth Affirms love is never sinful Even as sorrow stains the tongue — She watches hands…
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Scented candles
Summer days burned like scented candles. Flames bent to drafts we could not feel. Whiffs of smoke vandalized the brightness of time, smudged the walls of tomorrow’s room. Slow ruin settled in like urban squatters. Residue learned our names, waited in corridors of breath, COPD grew mold in our chest and now speaks in pidgin…
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Leave a window open
When clouds and thunder pulled curtains over the sun, momma would read scriptures written in the sky. She have us throw open the southwest windows, because if the pressure could somehow equalize and if the house had enough fresh air to recite prayers and if the walls held no fear of dying, the house would…
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Nest of leaves
sun bleached bench pine cone nests on leaves you think maybe a squirrel has hidden it in plain sight or maybe it fell in the night and landed there like you fell in the night and landed here neither of you had control over the decision to exist and neither of you has control over…
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Eddie Albert at the Green Acres General Store
In this great, green, good morning Carol is up early and in her office, while I lie in bed listening to the day. An app on my phone lists birds that live in our neighborhood and feed at the bird cafe suspended in our yard. Twelve species light up the screen. A Northern Cardinal and…
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The ‘AND’ of social awkwardness
do you remember playing hide & seek and no one could find you and you fell asleep in your hiding place because you didn’t want to lose and because everyone would have a new reason to hide from you and then you realize everyone is gone and maybe no one tried to find you or…
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haiku for the Lord of Misrule
you wave at the bus just to see who might wave back yell, April Fool’s Day 4-1-26
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Backyard buck
Behind my battered backyard fence, bent boughs, bold bamboo, brazen kudzu begin their annual green grab…again. Morning moves slowly over moss. With singing saw and steel bit I split saplings in two and battle brush. -Suddenly- Through the green, a big, bewildered, broad-chested, bristle-boned buck bounds down the brambled bank. Dry leaves dance. My heart…
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Ellipsis
Sometimes, our hearts buffer… that small spinning pause between signal and song. I say your name, the moment hesitates… a bird suspended in the grammar of air. The world stutters with wobbled gyrations… in the fragile delay I feel you. Silent promise, our hearts buffer… that small spinning pause between patience and devotion. 3-9-26 Tonight…
My husband's poetry 