Carried along (Day 651)

Once there, railways carried you 

along from the southern border 

to the northernmost tip, 

winding past fields and beaches, 

but never woods, no woods.

From time to time, you were

deposited in small towns, 

to admire the unique islands 

of culture, where brilliant rows 

of gilded street lights shone, and 

blue-fingered women, suspended 

from crimped celadon roofs, 

wrapped pale marble colonnades 

in handknitted swathes of wool, 

to protect them from the cold.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pexels

Autumn, again (Day 650)

Caterpillars inch across a country highway.

Sunshine gilds fields where fat, orange pumpkins lay. 

Shadows grow longer, earlier each day.

Late crickets sing a silvery farewell song.

Red rose of a bird swoops low across my lawn.

Summer’s gone; autumn, again; winter, beyond. 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Richard Hurd/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Without Me (Day 649)

We both had friends who loved us.

Neither of us was shiftless.

We loved being alone, rambling about 

like explorers in our own home town,

yet we were both strangers to loneliness. 

I suppose no one will ever be able 

to explain what happened, but that 

no longer matters, because I want you 

to live—richly, fully—without me.

Today, this may be all I have left to give.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Peter Fazekas/Pexels

Lead Butterflies (Day 648)

A lead butterfly or two 

landed with a clang   

my windows rattled 

in their casings 

and vases sang out

from their shelves

From room to room

they flitted  

my ceiling trembled 

when they alit   all bright 

colors and flashing wings

a Sunday’s silence split 

Who could deny them

joy of flight  or someplace 

safe to land?  No  

those butterflies 

are not to blame 

but their noise is 

more than I can stand

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: http://forestwander.com

This Necklace (Day 647)

She didn’t know what to do 

with this necklace of grief, 

little pearls of sadness, 

added to one by one, 

yellowed by years of wear, 

softened by long sepia days 

of tea, and solitude, and waiting.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: The Pearl Necklace (1905), 

by Henry Tonks, oil on canvas

This poem was inspired by Marguerite Duras’ novel, The Lover

The goddess of my credit card (Day 646)

The goddess of my credit card is angry.

Her blue skin, so beautiful, glistens in a holographic haze.

Two days ago I dared to criticize new systems.

Impatiently, she listened, emitting a low hiss of flourescent rage.  

Two days ago I was one day late.

Now, her tentacled arms flail like rays of noontime August sun.  

They slink through miles of cables, delicately seeking, squeezing through fiberoptic lines.

Seeing the state of my checking account, she scoffs.

Chastened, I offer a 10-dollar sacrifice, tempting her to accept my tarnished coins. 

In voice cold as crystal, the goddess of my credit card consents.

She is not wholly appeased, and who could blame her?

After all, the car she drives is new and fast, while mine is slow and old. 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: pics_pd/Pixnio

Grown-up games (Day 645)

Around the graying-green globe 

playing your grown-up games 

disguised by your lack of years 

but what do I know 

an emerald carpet unfurled 

at your feet    the wind-ruffled 

fringe that lines your path 

as green as mine is gold 

there   by the water   behind 

your thoughtful gaze   do I see 

you slick and strong   counting   

your evenly measured days 

what did you do to climb so far 

up the ladder of your life  to glisten 

as you do   beneath the ever-shining

sun that warms your world

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Golfers with Mt Rainier in background (NPS photo)

What Remains (Day 644)

So fragile, what remains 

What the planet has 

   not yet reclaimed

The treasure that hasn’t

   burned, sunk, 

   or washed away

Love what you can 

   still see, hear, touch

Some day soon 

   it will be 

   gone

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: US NPS/Ryan Fura

PLEASE READ: Hawaiian island erased by powerful hurricane: ‘The loss is a huge blow’ https://amp.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/oct/24/hawaiian-island-erased-by-powerful-hurricane

Alone in the water (Day 643)

Alone in the water   patient darkness 

stretched like a canvas behind 

a skyful of western stars   she became

a dolphin   eyes squeezed shut she circled 

and crossed   riding undulating currents   

confident her well-imagined ‘sonar’   

That this worked  she assumed was 

irrefutable proof of a mysterious 

cetacean heritage   Never once did she 

entertain the possibility that   having spent 

years in this perfect turquoise world   

its kidney-shaped contours and dimensions 

were etched indelibly on her brain 

and (in all likelihood) she was 

constitutionally incapable of colliding 

into its abrasive concrete walls 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Mingyue H/Pexels

Always a man (Day 642)

There was a man   wasn’t there always a man

A worthless man   helpful man   obstinate man

He was dark   he was fair   he was clean shaven

Athletic and broad   slim and elegant

He was too needy  too nice   a bad boy  indeed

This time he was just/not your usual type

But he was

A man   because without one   

Who/what/why were you

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Stuart Heath/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Reception (Day 641)

we can leave all that heavy botany to the minors

in a few years’ time I’ll symbolize an extravagant 

woman whose starry love veil features hundreds 
of millinery details I suppose one could feel better 

in Europe but he you had no idea how to start the 

aircraft was seen taking off at her most feminine

a canary who followed this fashion-forward look 

mellowed on an ungent noontide limbus we birds 

of the local variety I cannot change how vast how 

wide our hive is fortunately warming now I face 

the possibility in a progression that goes roughly

like a Bohemian wedding veils adorned love with 
a variety of chromatic birds they claim were only 

owned by the rich who you harness spirit of place 

for each sight heaven let us die of loneliness try 
to find a tune you won’t regret will want to use

(2018) by Hannah Six

Image: Blake Newman/Pexels

Allowable Losses (Day 640)

Wrapped blue velvet cloak 

of soundless footsteps loud 

vacant seats  poetry begins 

and you succomb to polished 

hallway floors  past closed doors 

behind which word-waves 

surge so still and silent  gentle 

graphite shushing crinkling 

paper  shoes shuffle nervously 

beneath those creaking chairs  

like justice poisoned  trust 

suspended  truth is shifting  

weighing brittle branches until 

they break  nothing has changed 

but time  suspended  bent and 

gnarled  endless work upended  

tossed and searched   allowable 

losses silenced  now  repeat

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Bengt Nyman (CC BY 2.0)

When (most) women stayed (Day 639)

a mother and two

how unusual we were 

then   the envy

of all our friends

in those days 

when women stayed 

with men who didn’t

our secret was 

what fun we had 

yes  in between some

food stamp shame

and jobs and school

and trying to open

a bank account 

in your name   alone

three  with the solid

stance of four   

the moonlit world 

was ours   door open 

to anything new   

people  music  places     

a lullabye life  

of memories that 

started sweet and now 

seem  somehow  sweeter  

since life added

its citrus twist to those 

honeyed days  when 

we were just us    

two and you

Dedicated to my mother, Bonnie, and sister, Sarah, with love

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: The Balcony, 1868, by Édouard Manet, oil on canvas

The Feet (Day 638)

The feet are on 

your path   walking 

toward your doorstep

against my will    the hand 

will knock    and    

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Merio/Pixabay

Silver Veneer (Day 637)

the sky, a flaking silver veneer

opalescent clouds appear to melt

a journey wakes, arises

the wise, golden moon glides higher

in a strange breeze, tiny flowers swing 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: NPS Denali/Katie Thoresen (CC BY 2.0)

Big-game trophies (Day 636)

Swept along in the current   surrounded 

by brilliant men   big-game 

trophies on the club’s oak paneled walls   

your life a congenial mixture 

of grief and bonhomie   

of the trivial and the tragic

it has never been easy   

then again you always expected 

you would enjoy the company in Hell   

More interesting you said   so there’s that

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Sagamore Hill, USNPS

Consolation (Day 635)

I don’t know how to tell you 

but this truth existed 

all along:

like that generous limb

extended   petals cupped around 

their precious golden offering

and that damp unyielding sand

beneath a tent that swayed 

like trees 

that night we braved a sea of wind 

which set the stars to spinning 

like the tilted sky was 

swimming with drunken fireflies  

remember

that gentle song 

your heart sings when you allow 

yourself to live  

to give 

and to receive

this consolation   

this reprieve

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Picryl

Vinland Song (Day 634)

where blue ice cleaves 

the sea she waits and I

the one who chose 

might ever be departed 

no one else must 

know our blood spilled 

rose-red on unmarred snow 

we vowed and yet 

so far from home 

am I in unmarked lands 

so unprepared 

to hand my life away 

just now    the fire 

sings a lullabye 

and I draw near 

to see her face 

within the flames

the dream I seek will come 

tonight same as it always does

the sun has risen and 

she waits for me 

with hands outstretched 

toward an endless sea

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Russell Wills