Brennan, Gone Too Soon
(for his mother Sheila)
He roared like a lion
like the ocean
crashing against the rocky shore
(insides thrashing one struggle to the next).
They say still waters run deep.
Sometimes, noisy waters run deeper.
Run, and jump, and probe,
trying to find purchase
or
trying to find quiet.
There’s a hole in the bottom of the deep blue sea.
The blue green sea that is the color of his eyes.
Always bringing him home.
Bringing him to his mother’s door,
Bringing him to his mother’s shore.
He’s there in the laugh of the seagulls;
in the storms that rumble and tumble your head
only to bring sun the next morning.
He’s in the clouds that darken your door one minute
but break into amusing fluffy shapes the next.
He’ll turn up and surprise you
just when you’re least expecting it.
He was, and always will be
after all.
Terri
She is not particularly pretty
and her nose is a little too strong
but as the heat and light of an oven
changes a little of this and little of that
into a delicious dessert,
She smiles.
Read also, “The Secret of Sisters”, dedicated to my sister Terri
It’s Happening Again
Yellow gray skies
again
pervade my world.
They are the color
of the fangs
I want to bare
and snap and snarl
at everyone
and everything.
Gray ash falls
from the sky
as if snow
was always
the color of sorrow
as if trees
wished
to be licked by flames
before peeling
and disintegrating
in fire’s embrace.
This is the afterbirth
of a fire
whose breath lingers
on your clothes
and in your hair
and
builds a nest in your lungs
like a starling, making
your every breath rattle
through the branches.
Robin Gabbert, November 2020
Splitting Hairs
They say she keeps
her feelings bottled up
yes
I am a classic introvert
I suppose
however
it might be more accurate
to say
her feelings are like
the hand grenade
your crazy Uncle Joe
brought back from Vietnam
and keeps in a shoebox
under his bed
or
like the balls of twine
Muffy bats around the room
until they’ve been dashed back
and forth a few dozen times
except when
they’re like
the hot caramel
on top of an ice cream sundae
or
the face
of a Dali clock
Robin Gabbert, November 2020