Five Poems

by Susan Shea



 

Tested

 

I collect thorns

watch them float

in a jar of living water

staying fresh

in case I am tempted

to borrow them

prick myself

with discouragement

tell myself I am

too bogged down

to move to the next rung

on the wheelworks

of my eternal clock

in case I choose to let

the stinging mocker out

to hurt my chance

of having a good day

Consecrators

 

They match life forms

to home abandoned dogs

with people who have holes

in the flesh and bones

and minds of their survival suits

 

they ask the ones who speak

in words, to tell them

what they need to mend the empty

places in their living rooms

they want to know how much

cuddling, walking, playing

they want to know how high

the dial should be set

on the meters of energy

and jubilation

they ask and ask

                                   

until their eyes fill with whimpering

and they know they have enough

to decide which tail will feel safe

enough to wag

to the song of similar sorrows

Planning

  

The new old man

down the road

continues to add

two-person seating areas

to sheltered zones

inside his property

 

nestled within trios of trees

befriended next to

moss-covered boulders

encircled by evergreens

 

red bar stools sitting high

chairs made to look

like piles of books

butterfly benches

 

inviting and mysterious

provided by the man who

stands alone looking

in all directions

 

surrounded by neighbors

who are still trying

to figure out what,

if anything,

we should do

to take the weight

off our feet

New Age Night

 

He brought his ethereal drum

into the crowded campsite

to shake up the forest

give it new vibrations

 

better than the tree-speak

carried in the breezes

he knew more than

the people beneath the nearby

steeple singing hymns

of those who give full vent

to their own spirits

                                   

he waited until

the darkness became its darkest

when campfires were out

after families had tucked

each other in

 

he began to beat his hollow shell

telling his drumhead to cast spells

on unsuspecting heartbeats

 

until an enormous sacred black bear

came out of nowhere

to sit near him

to look him in the eye

to just say

no

User Friendly

 

Accidentally, I discovered

I could erase

your background

by pressing down

on your photo image

until a line of light

starts traveling around you

continually encasing you

in a spirited bright vibration

 

waiting for me to decide

if I want to turn you

into a sticker

to add to my emoji’s

so that your being

can now express my feelings

 

or I can choose to

copy and paste you

away from any

of the grievous places

in your past

                                   

oh

if only I had that power



BIO: Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who grew up in Brooklyn, New York and now lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. She returned to writing poetry two years ago, and since then, her poems have been published in or are now forthcoming in Chiron Review, ONE ART, Folio Literary Journal, Radix Magazine, The RavensPerch, Cloudbank, Ekstasis, MacQueen's Quinterly, Green Silk Journal, The Write Launch, Foreshadow, The Loch Raven Review, and others. Within the last few months one of her poems was nominated for Best of the Net by Cosmic Daffodil, and three poems were nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Umbrella Factory Magazine.

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