You Got Your Wish; I Got Mine
A cheer goes up. Then, down, of course.
Other people deciding what more they want.
I'm no lonelier than I've been. Maybe less.
At church, suffering and ransom, another recap.
"Is that how we do it?" my mother asks,
meaning, as usual, God knows what.
Today's sun is buttery, is never you mind;
my attention span is shot. So, bravo, OK?
And just for the record, I made it look effortless.
Behind the scenes was another story.
The photo of this moment would break your heart.
Don't, not even for one minute, doubt that's true.
Stupidity, Crabbiness, Moorings & Love
One possible Jesus was Jesus, stubbornly.
For argument's sake, the clouds moved very fast.
Good show! I wanted to say.
The clarity is inside you is what I said instead.
The professor and students nodded yes, and no.
Like when your mouth opened against mine.
Keats was awfully young when he wrote those letters.
I am frequently reminded.
What can I say? Seduction c. 1819 still sounds good.
The worst of it is mostly private.
Of what I asked myself.
Then snapped a photo in the hotel mirror.
Tending the Nectar
Little cracks in things.
The vase big as a balloon and shaped that way.
How will I ever get that home? was real.
The wind used all its verbs to answer.
I'm trying not to make the same mistakes.
Now a waiting feeling keeps me up.
Something greenish and delicate.
I'm confident but not that confident.
The smallest action is quite large.
The smallest appetite an appetite, still.
There's lots of brilliance.
Seeing myself in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A picture of a bird discourages the real birds.
It's hard not to pose in this life.
Birch bark curls on the counter.
I can't learn fast enough.
The sunset, in my opinion, rushed the ending.
Copyright c 2013 by Mary Ann Samyn. May
not be reproduced without permission.