Poems, Art, Reading, Satire, Occasional Recipes
Who’s to say?
In a cut glass jar
high on a shelf,
this poem acts as a
powdered panacea
you mix with holy water
on special occasions.
It might be the water,
the occasion, the amount
mixed, the ritual, the weight
of your heart mind, the cumulative
effect, the level of your measure,
a remarkable phase of moon, but
(and it could simply be a placebo)
it seems to do the trick.
Who’s to say?
…
© DLWhite
10/29/23
11:59 pm
________________
All of me nearly
We meet for a little while on a bench at yacht club just north of the South Shore Park Pavilion between the the boat launch ramp and yacht club. The gulls are squawking away. It’s surprisingly comfortable.
Or …. you pick a favored spot and give me three guesses.
Otherwise, we sit facing the same direction, east to Michigan, watching the clouds. It’s quiet. You know I have something to say. I appreciate your time. Thank you.
And, now with this breath, I hope with all my hoping, that you are not uncomfortable with me thinking of you, and sharing my thoughts, my ruminations, my rumpled paper poetry.
I feel it’s my best gift.
All of me nearly
…
for Katie
(c) DLWhite
October 11, 2023
2:49 am
Freshwater You
I cherish the time I rang you
when I had to drop a client at
Freshwater or Florida and maybe
mumbled something about a hug.
Maybe. Maybe. Sounds like me.
You came out in a knit top that,
so unlike you, had a little hole in it
or was, maybe I don’t remember,
could it have been inside out?
It only occurs to me now, years later,
at the writing of this poem, that you,
working from home, had maybe not
been dressed for the weather, rushed
out to meet me grinning also anyways,
to trade a quick hug and three minutes
of “Hey.” And “Hey you.” and how do you do?
I hope this rings a bell with you,
or tunes up a crystal bowl singing
Freshwater, Freshwater, Freshwater you
…
for Katie
(c) DLWhite
10/11/23
2:00 am
