I’ve Been Drunk
words by Leslie Noyes
I’m usually sober, but I have been drunk. Sometimes one glass of wine leads to another,
And I lose count. Mind, this isn’t my usual state. Normally you’ll find me sober as a saint.
Tonight, though? Tonight I succumbed. Tonight I forgot about rules and restrictions.
I did not drown my sorrows; I celebrated my joys. Oh, my heart! I have so very many.
They leaned across the table,
fingertips touching,
heads inclined,
eyes engaged
Anyone could see how much in
love they were,
except I heard
her call him
A freaking dumbass, while
he made feeble
attempts at an
apology.
Eavesdropping certainly
has some perks
not the least of which is
entertainment value.
Call and Response
words by Leslie Noyes
Time ceases to exist
When the old man speaks
Yet trembles when he listens.
Draw nearer, friend
Better for him to hear
Above the fray and frenzy.
Whisper loudly, for he is
Stone deaf and ancient
Beyond our reckoning
His tears flow like cold sap
Weighted with the detritus
Of aging arteries
But, flow they do in silent
Sympathy with all that has
Befallen man, and all that is to come.
No platitudes forthcoming
Today he listens only.
Tomorrow, he may speak in tongues.
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we shared
rooms and bikes,
christmases and
vacations,
love, fear, and
exultations.
do you remember
planning a nativity
skit?
The only girl,
I was always Mary
while you two were
shepherds or kings,
never baby Jesus.
while we never
actually performed
the play
we could have,
maybe.
how about the time
in New Mexico
when Daddy stopped
the car in the smack dab
middle of the road
to get close to a
black bear?
did we all scream
or was it just
me when he got out
of the sedan to talk
to said bear?
remember cousins?
going on road trips
to California and
back?
baby brother damned
near drowned at San Juan
Capistrano.
Mama worried
that she and I would
need head scarves to
tour the
mission there.
where are we now?
far, yet close.
set free by parents
who knew we had to
be strong.
I miss them.
I miss you both,
little brothers.
I
need
love like
flowers need
rain.
I
seek
comfort as
babies seek
succor.
I
crave
peace in
a violent
world.
I
deserve
the respect
that every human
seeks.
I
believe
we are better
than our politics
portray.
No scholarly tomes grace the table beside her bed, instead Harlequin romances and Fabio-graced
Bodice rippers stacked three deep provide her nighttime reading inventory. Yet she argues
Politics on social media having watched Sarah Palin make nonsense of sense while appearing
Perfectly coiffed, but maybe a bit drunk. She feels that Hillary is untrustworthy, after all,
FOX news tells her in sly words and simpering phrases that this is so. Claims she’s
Heard Hillary say our second amendment rights will disappear and babies will be aborted
Even as they are born, healthy, but unwanted. Yet when pressed for proof, name
Calling ensues and ugly words are exchanged. I console myself with the thought
That she really is not very informed, but the cold reality is, she will be voting in November.
Will you?
I shaved my legs this morning, just as I shaved them yesterday and the day before, as
Far back as fifth grade when an older boy looked at the soft brown hair highlighted against my pale
Skin and made a disparaging remark about my burgeoning femininity. His words inflicted
Shame on my body. Where before I’d felt they were a part of me, now my legs were alien
Enemies, beings that had sprouted unsightly fur seemingly overnight with no advance
Warning. As soon as school dismissed I hurried home and beseeched my mom for my own
Razor. Oh, you don’t want to start shaving, just yet, she said, Once started, you cannot stop.
Yet she gave in, instructing me in the depilatory arts. And damned if she wasn’t right.
songs of the many,
sweet, soft voices
young and hope-filled or
gravelly, world weary,
ancient,
tinged with loss.
songs of experience,
joy imbued,
world on a string, or
blues immersed,
beer soaked,
whisky nourished.
there is a time
for every song to be heard,
even the lyrics
that tear at the heart
must be given voice
under the sun.
likewise in the midst
of despair, joyous
exclamations may erupt
guiding injured
human souls
beyond the pain.
Flying seemed like a fine idea, so she stepped onto the balcony and climbed up on the wrought
Iron railing. Too bad, she thought, her wings hadn’t yet come in. Maybe, like wisdom
Teeth there’d be a firm pushing through tender skin as molars tearing gums. A fresh,
Lilac-scented breeze brushed her cheeks, while the warm spring air caressed her bare
Arms. It would be a shame to leave on such a pleasant day. Maybe tomorrow her wings
Would sprout, the skies casting grey instead of blue, the wind full of ragweed causing her to sneeze
Vigorously. Then she would fly away swiftly just to prove she could. Carefully, she
Climbed down and plucked a lilac from a nearby bush. Ignoring the odd tingling between
Her shoulder blades, she tucked the flower behind one ear and slipped inside the French
Doors where beige plush carpeting tickled the bottoms of her bare feet eliciting a giggle.
Not yet five o’clock on a holiday afternoon, but who’s counting?
Open a bottle of rich red wine, and let it breathe, as I breathe.
Deep, slow exhalations, anticipations, celebrations.
Firecrackers crackle across the lake, driving the cats under the bed.
Pour a deep glass, notes of lavender and wood smoke grace the tongue.
Lazy limbs, liquid limbed, one sip leads to a second, then third.
The sound of our beating hearts superimposed over the pop! pop! pop!
Independence day? Interdependence day.
Hold me until the sounds cease.
Praying for Eyebrowz 