Sunday morning chores

slim cigarettes crystal ashtray on each table champagne flutes and martinis silk cocktail dresses t.v. sets Doris Day silky red bob fiery temper purse emptied pill bottles prescriptions on their way Monk and Gainsbourg converse like angels laughter is refined ladies don’t drink beer ladies sip on wine day in and night out four in the morning the child translates orders tiny soldier scrape the fields looking for a mother giving birth to self carpet facials the caresses turn blue and black little mommy takes good care pumpernickel toast French butter pats left on the bedside melting in the afternoon sun

coming of age

gravel crunches underfoot

trees wave their lofty branches

a quiet rainy morning

winds talk through wild baby hairs

fingers reach to grasp the hand

of the teacher pall bearer

noting silence in the throat

lightning swiftness in the gait

knuckles bursting from the skin

betwixt right now and ever

the breeze states through woman locks

sorely peering through the glass

explicit emotions exploding through the tongue

knowing she is scarcely done

in walking through her wreckage