After Reading an E-mail from the Graduate Admissions Office

Sunny skies painted my horizon blue,

much more for rain and clouded

afternoons, in Summer,

until I learned solar waves do 

percolate through my heart, 

beating against

its cage, freeing me from heavy

thoughts, and careless self-imaging.

There were words written to me in

happy tones, congratulating,

like the long hour had passed,

the minute-hand moved toward the zenith

of its arc, and long, dissonant notes,

chiming from a belltower

that often set me with anxiety,

today are liberating.

I have been walking through the pages

of a well-known novel by Salinger,

soaking in the character he presented,

likeably unlikable, deviant in language,

antisocial, and realizing that

I’m never quite so alive as when I hold

a beaten paper-back between my palms,

and thumbs.

My study is writing, and writers

have infatuated me since I was old

enough to concentrate the words

into images, in the basement of

my grandparent’s house. I remember

being disturbed at an image that

King, one of my Grandma’s favorite

thrillers, painted in my mind

like blood upon the lily hand of

Lady MacBeth, unwashable for

all the running water, a spot on my brain.

I still see the cat, a beloved pet,

bringer of mystery, and magic,

strung up against that sign in my head.

I can still hear the words of the

protagonist

 in my head 

as if they were

spoken to me. 

I like the way that books displace me,

force me to interact, even when I am

scared or heartbroken, and stick in

me, like song-lyrics to a normal person.

It is in these moments, my study,

casually flipping the pages of something

well-known, and beloved, that

I feel loved.

Three 

We three waited

for a waterslide,

unsure if we could 

all go together.

Each positioned a seat on a 

yellow raft with handles,

and nervously giggled.

Young ladies, each adults now,

wonderment in our hearts

at how simple things like

gravity and water could transform

three sisters into the children 

we once were.

Terrified at points, 

feeling like the pull

was too harsh, 

and panic in three sets of eyes

three years apart. 

Each thought that 

we might die.

Just hold on.

Don’t you dare let go.

Into the abyss, backward

we were thrust, and after 

what seemed eternity,

(about 3 seconds)

we emerged joyous with laughter,

too giddy to find out footing,

three sisters onto the 

next slide.