So you
still  wonder
          sometimes

you have this toy, this shining
wriggling thing, poetry
and

you want to play.
Why not? But

you didn't really buy it
did you,
not
by a long shot.


   Didn't sweat through some
worse-than-others pain,
didn't hate your parents

didn't move through the hollow nights
in a haze of rage
                             and alcohol


you don't even
boast
a tattoo, or hide
    a roping
                scar.



  That's cute, now honey
come to bed.



Still,

this plaything's edges bite:

alive with
  choking hazards,
       lead, and fibers
        of glass,

sparkling.
        



 

He snores like an outboard motor
in the darkened room.

The birds, quiet in the cage,
tuck themselves into knots,
each feathered head on backward.

The neighbor's hound sleeps, too-
voice lost at last.

_{welcome, Sharon
good job.}





.

Engrossing poem, Sharon. Could "Still" substitute for "But" down toward the bottom, for a little extra clarity (if I'm reading this right)? Cut the last line? Tom 

nicely done.  you're a refreshing addition.

Thanks Dax, appreciate that..


Thanks too, Tom, and I so agreed with your suggestions I've already made some changes. Much obliged!


And thanks, John, means a lot..really like this journal board :)

Best to all,
S

Really enjoying these, Sharon. 'glass' rather than 'glassy' reads easier for me at the end of the first.

milner

Ta, Milner, agreed..have changed that now. So pleased you've enjoyed!

Best,
Sharon

I like everything up to the last line. I feel like you rushed to it, and it's contrived (the last line, that is), whereas the rest of the piece is not. Your sense of rhythm is enjoyable, though.

Why put this in journalese?

 Thanks Jay, appreciate your looking in! Hm, I see, re: the final line...will see what it needs.

It's in journalese because I just tossed it off, during my initial use of  the digital journal thread. Do people sometimes move a piece from journal to submit? Curious. :)

S

The morning stretches like
skeins of warm taffy, working
bronze fingers
through tassles of fir
and cedar.



With every shout, the crow
announces your laziness:


Get up, the hens
peck the earth, and
one another

waiting for you. Up,

the tiger lilies swallow the sun


and I have found the neighbor's dog
soft and dead,
beside a gravel drive.

<sub>good job, Sharon

wood
come down
fall

all maple &
sinus sympathy

portland
under the hood

bye, bye
there



ciao, ciao</sub>




.

Thanks Dax, enjoyed that dose   :)




Mother in law



I bring pasta salad and
fresh-squeezed lemonade, you  
greet me at the door, hands outstretched.

I wear my newest linen skirt.
My smile is spotless.

I don't forget to help
with washing up.

After, over coffee
we talk of children, knitting, gardens-
I almost say it then:



your son, your golden boy...

do you know what

he's

            capable of

love this, Sharon

Thank ye, T   :)