Indulgence No. 2 (Day 229)

Sirens, my old photos.

Luring me with silvery songs:

“Real love, true, forevermore—”

Leave me wrecked on the reef of Now,

Nightmares of happiness circling.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Regulation Standards: A prose poem (Day 199)

 

 Two of my neighbors built a horseshoe pit,

to regulation standards, in the yard next door. 

For a few evenings, their laughter rang out like 

a clanging bell, testifying to the neighborhood’s 

well-being. Then the games ended. I wonder 

what happened? Did one cheat the other 

out of points, or the last hot dog on the grill, 

or half a handful of their mutually-preferred drugs? 

Or maybe one asked too much of the other, 

expected too much time, too much hilarity, and 

frightened the other away? Perhaps it was 

the simple fact that one was employed, 

while the other avoided jobs like cracks in a sidewalk 

(not wanting to break his estranged mother’s back). 

These days, young rabbits graze the grown-over pits, 

and lush weeds camouflage the wooden backstops, 

disguising the evidence that, for a few evenings, 

two men’s worlds overlapped, like a Venn diagram, 

but were unable to sustain contact. 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Horseshoe pitching contest at the annual field day of the FSA (Farm Security 

Administration) farmworkers community, Yuma, Arizona, courtesy US Library of Congress

Singing Alouette (Day 196)

singing Alouette   unaware 

of the threat behind the rolling words 

which   one day   she’ll wish she could 

forget   when the plucking of the little bird 

disturbs her brave heart   disrupts her 

tender soul   a bower of deep green 

dreams   hidden high among the pears  

seated on a V   longing for admittance 

to a world she does not know   for questions

proving what her answers show

pushing back a darkness she knows well  

a slippery pet  claws at her family tree

reckless   overwhelmed   she takes a stand

determined not to let her feelings show

she plants her feet   a warrior   sword at hand     

and stares down her fire-breathing foe

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six