Thursday, April 25, 2013

Two Poems by Diane Webster


As I leave my therapist’s office
I always stop outside the door
that opens to the alley
to look left then right
checking for cars
like mom taught me --
in my mind I hold her hand
as I cross the street.
I wonder if someday
I will close my eyes,
feel morning sunshine against my face,
hear silence on pavement,
and stretch out my arms
like Christ upon the cross,
like exaggerated hug in waiting
and step out…


The van passes like a berserk robot
sproinging, rattling with loose screws
and rusted panels flapping joyfully in wind
disappearing in its own smoke screen
like an old James Bond vehicle
bumbling along in Alzheimer confusion
thankfully knowing it has to stay
between the lines hopefully still knowing
right hand from left instead of relying
on forgotten faith in Jesus bumper sticker.

DIANE WEBSTER: Her challenge is to remain open to poetry opportunities and to write what she sees whether by walking across the parking lot or watching the hawk scowl from its tree. Her work has appeared in “Illya’s Honey,” “The Cape Rock” and other literary magazines.

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