Shape of Sleeping (Day 239)

shape of sleeping human being 

soft warm curves and bones

conform to flat hard concrete  mind 

likely dreaming  imagine  suitcases

rolling luggage wall  odd aimless 

walkers  hair ragged  eyes glazed 

like nothing can help believe 

what lies this narrow kind of town 

tells  a patched stone wall  wobbly 

one-lane street  the bridge is slow 

quiet place for sleeping under

baby-blue blanket  to lay down and 

rest now  once night cold and dark 

falls under there safe is conditional

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Mariamichelle

I Tell You No (Day 238)

Because I tell you no, I tell you yes. 

You only have to guess to see me smile. 

Once in a long while, you might let me down. 

I’ll come around again, though if you wait. 

Too late is not the same as yesterday. 

And now the birds have flocked, and now have flown. 

The days have grown so short, and cold, and gray. 

You say I told you no, but I said yes.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: Pixabay

Autumnal Indulgence, ca. 1985 (Day 237)

Beneath bunting 

   leaves of wine 

      and gold

air warm with autumn

light 

      we walked together

hands clasped

      we sailed glistening 

black highways 

to the sea 

   and back

       before you 

explained

in the gray dawn

       before you 

decided 

I should 

       know

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: wikimedia

Maybe We Are (Day 236)

Maybe we 

are not all 

the same. 

Maybe 

some of us 

are upside 

down 

or inside 

out. 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Free-photos

Before 1980 (Day 235)

Lake-shore picnic lunch

Among beloved strangers

Snowfields in summer

Memories drift, floating home

Spirits caught in ash and stone

In memory of my uncle, Gordon H. Fiske, who passed away this morning.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Lyn Topinka

Wallflowers (Day 234)

This is what I 

find dismaying:

one year in, we’re 

still replaying 

stories of our 

past golden years 

and gossiping 

about our fears. 

What we need now

is a firm stance:

Wallflowers don’t 

get asked to dance.

Last time we were 

caught unaware—

next round will go

to they who dare.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Emma Frances Logan

Indulgence No.4 (Day 233)

it helps

to flood the stage 

with protest

like hearing every side 

from the wide clear skies  

of my late 

summer 

autumn  

falling  we went out 

undisguised  sweated  

and when 

we came home 

feeling angry  vile  

riled like 

a snake   

an unexpected freight train   

like the days 

of warm rain beyond 

the bruise-green clouds   

we had a precedent 

for the day 

of the storm 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Free-Photos