My husband's poetry

Category: daily life

  • Old fruit

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    blue wings dip and soar above reflected sky flit from red to yellow to green leaves back and forth back and forth and back, again are they playing or courting? maybe both scolding voice, passerine cousins of crows, their only flaw 11-4-23

  • Duty stations

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    dawn prayers (sacred duty) vote in city by election (patriotic duty) rake leaves gathered in our yard (family duty) chicken with hot sauce (personal duty) 11-7-23

  • In search of daylight savings

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    The sun rises slow between trees over houses across from the park and sinks too soon behind the ridge of Hampton’s field. I follow my headlights into the dark Autumn 11-10-23

  • Before it rains

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Several streets over distant sirens cry. You finish a poem in the New Yorker about a blood stained shadow, peel an orange and wonder if a family, you do not know, has insurance. Tangy citrus lingers on your tongue. You go inside before it rains. 11-10-23

  • Because

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    because their past long term relationships fell apart they exchanged apartment keys on the first date and inspected each other’s bathroom, refrigerator, closets and whether they made their bed that morning because after the dew is off the lily it’s the little domestic things that matter 11-18-23

  • Apple sauce

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    I grow tired of social justice warriors on the right and on the left. Their quest for blemish free skin makes for tasteless fruit in my neighborhood grocery aisle I prefer to shop local. Greet the Trumper on the corner who helps everyone on the block and waves when he drives by and the non-traditional…

  • Prison wall graffiti

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    creatures of habit seem detached need familiar spaces and alone time tough creatures tougher still to be married to living in their skin a prison cell 11-24-23

  • Big yellow bus

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    puddle in the street wishing it was the sky reflects its dream school bus pushes past deposits children at the curb traffic stops in both directions free at last they stomp and splash the puddle dry before they race for home 11-14-24

  • Gifting among the poor

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    In the sweater section of Goodwill She saw the ugly hand-knit sweater She gifted her best friend for Christmas 2016 She bought it for a dollar And gifted her best friend for 2024 So she’d have a matching set 11-15-24

  • Thanksgiving leftovers

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    The house is asleep you go downstairs, make fresh coffee, check your fantasy football lineup. From the window you watch chickens stir in their coop and wait for the rest of the house to wake before you go back upstairs, to pack for leaving and hope you will be able to leave before the post-Thanksgiving…