Secret (Day 496)

Water glass, some left.

Coral half-kiss on the rim.

Not his mother’s shade.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Julie Lewis/Flickr

Warrior Queens at 1:05 a.m. (Day 492)

black sky at 1:05 a.m.  billions of stars 
stretching inconceivably beyond sight 

wondering: does life pulse or throb or ooze 

somewhere out in that vast dark desert   

or do we live and love and sleep alone

owners of endlessness we seek to end

past speaks to present whispering secrets 

future stargazers may wish to know   

how small we tend to feel  how unimportant 

our concerns in immensity’s shadow 

worries become clouds of flitting gnats    

responsibilities float like dandelion seeds

   

at the escarpment’s edge  facing outward 

tragedies and triumphs seem to blur and blend

did boadicea laugh in triumph as romans fled  

or weep for those whose blood she spilled

does midnight’s bending of right and wrong 
excuse the cruel from blame  condemn the kind

did zenobia’s golden chains belie her end

or did she take a stand and starve herself

at 2:00 a.m. the heart leans toward truth

even if courage soars toward its own death 

yet darkness still cools our burning world 

and all those beautiful planets spin around

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Comet Lovejoy, NASA.gov

Packing Boxes (Day 459)

The things, the things...

Glasses from Long John Silver

which my grandmother saved 

for me

for decades

A doll I’ve had since she and I

wore the same size clothing

Art supplies I use

art supplies I don’t use and 

art supplies I may want to use 

again   someday

And 

   so

      many

          mugs

How they anchor us to the past

How they overwhelm the present

How they obscure what might be

And yet

Some things ask to be released

Others wait  patiently

for me to be ready to hold them

for me to be ready to release them 

for me to be ready 

   to move

       into an unburdened future

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Summer of lapsed attention (Day 452)

She cannot undo her summer 

of lapsed attention in exotic 

lands  sledding downhill and

drinking sparkling lime tinged

with juniper  a miraculous 

invisible line of “but” “yet” and 

“though” traces a path from 

forehead to willing heart  

without doubt  without abandon  

mingling with the bitter things 

that make her mouth hard 

to know  the slow travel of 

an ordinary life among the humid 

evening hours  She proceeds 

to talk strikingly about the shame 

of being unfathomable  suspended

on ribbons of blue smoke between 

her previous life and the next

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Cyprus (public domain)