Poetry
by Alison Townsend.
“I didn’t know / one went grey down there too. / Hadn’t imagined / that even sex / might lose its color.”
by Philip Levine.
“A row of corrugated gray huts /
hunkering down in the November rain. /
Across the way the fire burns night and day / though unseen now in first light.”
by Hal Sirowitz.
“When the Parkinson’s medication /
wears down, I turn into Cinderella. / My means of transportation / slows down to the speed of / a pumpkin pulled by mice.”
by Virginia Chase Sutton.
“I stand before the painting a decade and a half / before I am transformed. Oil on wood panel / lush in detail—blood curdling into script, black velvet gown, / hair dressed like glory.”
by Virginia Chase Sutton.
“It is not advertised on the pill bottle, merely mentioned / in the product description from the drug store. / You have no idea what you are giving away.”
by Peter Sordillo.
“That night, I dreamed of a city older than knowledge, / Dreamed of Serratia, climbed up from the soil, / Drawn over the fields like a long dress…”
by Ona Gritz.
“Left, my bright half, gets all of it… /
soft sharp prickly wet lined. / But press your head against my right shoulder, /
I sense weight but no warmth.”
by Margaret Kogan.
“First open the windows and empty the garbage. / Next start the laundry, lights and darks. / Strip the bed, wash sheets, pillowcases, / mattress and quilt covers, mats and towels.”
by Alice Wirth Gray.
“Her lovely face captured the one /
available male in the old folks’ home. /
She’s found, at long last, Mr. Right, / absolutely faithful, endlessly attentive, / forgiving of all idiocy.”