Monday, July 22, 2013

A Poem by Lance Sheridan

and in her eyes

delinquent children skip rope in a street,
steal moments of sanity

fire hydrant water washes away the dirt,
the remains of a previous day

bare feet feel the pull,
the weak suffer

hot black top city pavement,
taxi tires melt

in place

meters ticking,

one fifth of a mile comes out
of knock off


preacher in a church laughs a
hallowed laugh,

abscond with holy water,
abscond with collection

plate change

does the steepled fingers before
inserting a key in a benz

police officer taps on window car
glass for a slice

of a holy pie

sandlot slide zone in an empty lot,
once, a building,

once, families lived
now watch 

sandlotters play, know of caliber
handguns hidden under


plans of shooting the messenger
shooting the landlord


but, hands still cold from 
winter frost

on glass

vagrants kick stones through brittle,
crisp mornings;

on a damp sidewalk, collar up to
be inconspicuous, 

i perchanced,
looked up 

at a solitary Victorian window,

she, with black lace on hands,
with black lace covering

a beautiful look,

i climbed into her eyes,
became a part

of an expression,

she handed me a deep silence,
had a story

held it up on written paper,

black ink dripping onto Victorian
rug, words 

formed in a small, dark puddle,

crept through fibers into 
cracks in a planked,

uneven floor,

resident below placed them neatly 
in a dirty mason jar,

closed with a rusted, uneven lid;

i invited myself up,

she opened a door, slowly,
somewhat reluctantly

i asked to read what was left 
on parchment

a life like a prow in still waters,
yet waves broke

broke her spirit,

i sympathized,
she kissed me

with blue delicate eyes;

on her finger, mark of a 
wedding band

the husband, an undercover cop,
found dead in an

abandoned factory,
birds nest in 

broken window frames

she cried, eyes now hollow
like potholes in 

waxed tabletops,

"i cannot possibly fit myself into
this world any longer,"

she turned away and gestured 
for me to leave,

beyond her look, beyond her veil,
she stood by a lonely



for her love to return...

Lance Sheridan—
Published writer—Bits and Pieces to Ponder/Self-Help/2002 
Published poet—Poet Interview on November 8, 2012 by a Salisbury University Journalism Major/Salisbury, MD; poem 'Night into Day/Goodnight Till the Morning Sun'/11-12/napalmandnovocain.blogspot; poem 'Night into Day/Goodnight Till the Morning Sun' has been accepted for inclusion in the 2012 Best of Anthology, Storm Cycle
blog—; has received over 75,000 views since June 2012. One poet on my work, "Whoa … ur writing is incredible." April Pardocchi

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