Clothesline – August Poetry # 26


Hanging clothes on a line
strung between trees. All
connected, clothespin to
line to clothespin.

A squirrel hunter once charged
toward me through the woods.
Making me remember another
mother hanging a fluffy,
white mitten, mistaken for
a leaping whitetail deer.

I take down the slightly
stiff clothes, folding them into
the basket.

Country Living


“Their armies (apparently) can live on dropped cat kibble” – Paul Nelson

The sleeper couch full of

dog food, a chipmonk ran

over it on a loop – in the

foundation crack, over the

couch, ushered out the

window by my eight year old

son. We were slow learners, finally

stuffing steel wool into the

opening. End of his game. We

didn’t find the mouse storage

bin until the overnight guests

pulled out the bed. Country






Sewing Machine – August Poem #23


Sewing machine

The sewing machine sits on
the table.

Mean-ma locks her children
outside, snowsuits tightly

Tiny flowered fabric
I never finished
“it didn’t look like

Olive mini dress,
new afro
smiling on grandmother’s porch.

My sister’s blue sleeves sewn
while the ’67 riot raged
neighbors shared liquor from a
looted store.

My mother pouring rum out,
hammering the bottle to



Sunshine- August Poem #21



To:  Erin Feldman

High blue sky,
sunshine and scudding
Me and my cousin
on top of
the hay bales. or
in the tree house
The dog  from down
the road jumps up
with us.
dry grass. dry corn.
Sunshine and fast