Filling Station

Once
A woman and her husband
Stopped at this place

She, eight months with child
He, thinking about walking out
And the drive had been a tense one
Old wounds reopened
Fresh hurts on display

And an old couple was there
At the same time
Laughing while they pumped gas
They asked her when the baby was due

She said, “One month.”

The old man asked her husband
“Are you excited?”
“Nervous,” was the reply

“Don’t be. Just remember:
Loving someone
Who loves you back
Is the greatest thing in the world.
And your child
Will love you back.”

Forty-eight years later
The woman is no longer young
She stands at this abandoned place
Her young granddaughter in tow.
“What is this place?” the little girl asks

This place?
This is where your grandaddy and I

Decided to stay in love


 

(“Filling Station” – 8-15-2014)

The Day of Her Departure

She heard the wind across the way;
Her chest grew tight, the sky turned gray,
And all she knew just fell away,
The day of her departure

She wanted more, she needed more;
She didn’t know what was in store
But wanted time – a leisure tour –
A world both ripe and larger

It wasn’t that she didn’t care
For those behind; it was that there
Were dreams that she had yet to dare –
To dance, to be a marcher —

Then one last time, the weather vane,
Perhaps a flash – a hint – of pain,
For she would not be back again:
The day of her
Departure

She Knows Now

(Part II. See here for Part I. – Owen)

The morning sits among the plow fields sleeping,

The shadows start to crawl from early sun;

For what’s gone down she knows now – there’s no keeping

A hidebound lie that’s been turned loose

To run

= = = = =

(Part II. See here for Part I. – Owen)

Who is That?

What is her story?

Who is that? What is her story?
Picture jumping off the screen.
Searching my mind’s inventory,
Has the poet scrambling.

Maybe she’s a brand-new doctor.
Maybe she’s just having fun
After conquering depression.
Maybe she just met someone

Who will love and treat her gently.
Maybe she’s out on a trip
Of a lifetime, there, intently,
Smiling at some idle quip

Of somebody just off-camera;
Two old girlfriends, maybe three.
Who’s that girl now, what’s her story?
I’ll tell you, and
You tell me