Diversions
I'm watchful at dawn when
mother-in-law picks nails
from the skirting the last
owl flirts on the eaves
so I turn sideways to watch
pistons seize without oil
on their bushings cars
drop carburetors through
rails on bent bridges
I turn turn see roses
sculpted on the headboard
gearstick sketched over
patterned velvet try to
catch spiders under bowls
always distracted by mice
marching down stair-wells
where collars ties hang
to catch morning's
metallic carcass
Looking In
the mirror takes me
loses me in wide spaces
narrow vacancies
stretches its mouth round my face
speaks and swallows words
I haven't said
and won't until tomorrow
the mirror grasps my hair
twists it about my neck
and leads me out of the frame
to a room I've never seen before
The Building
windfalls of hammers
from roof and walls
ravage the sky
hang tiles from
tree top mountain
drifts of nails
reverberate
through skull and cloud
drumming un-syncopated
beat against pipe
scaffolding car
welding clink to clank
through my battered days
Joanna M. Weston is married, has two cats, multiple spiders, a herd of deer, and two derelict hen houses. Her middle reader, Those Blue Shoes, was published by Clarity House Press, and her poetry collection, A Summer Father, was published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBooks can be found at her blog: http://www.1960willowtree.wordp
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