Author: Tamiko Lowery

Impasse

the shutter

against

white brick

is blue

and slats

are missing

out of it

like teeth

and it’s the only one

like that

left of the pane

and it’s funny how

your eye passes

over the intact

but barely budges

past those

missing slats

TL

Bulbs

in daffodil

light

the earth

seems warmer

somehow

and the books

easier to read by

and the pain

not so

and when you

twirl the tiny shade

in your tiny hand

the light bounces

between us

TL

Comeback

days before

you died

heard you

sing

“I look to You …”

 

and it was

the Whitney

of my youth

come back

to me

TL

The Rose

to behold

the blush

of a rose

and long for

a permanent

stain

is to stand

in the sameness

of the sun

and drink the milk

from the moon

and leave the night

without speck

and the day

without drop

and the land

without tree

then what

could there be

for the me

that is you

and the you

that is me

TL

Certainty

beneath the bough

the smallest bird

doth lilt

that you might hear it

in your sleep

and in your waking

that it might reach you

at the highest peak

or the valley low

or there almost

and like a memory

like the mist

there is no

before or after

no retreat … return

there is only

a continuum

TL

Courage

last night

the lamps shown soft

in her window

like so many nights before

and the tracks nearby

lay rusted with wear

and the two-lane street

could take you

one way or the other

the difference between

night and day

and together they spoke

without words

for he’d take her place

if only he could

and the prayers went up

to Heaven

like so many there before

for how does anyone, anywhere

out there

face the courage of cancer

without a fountain

of ever-flowing Faith

TL

Chevy Blue

textbooks

and term papers

spilled coffee

and juice

Georgia commute

part-time

full-time

real-time

my golden dog

and drive-thrus

that turning ticket

that brake check on campus

that dent in the back

that song on crack

that tire going flat

wind thru the window

rain in my hair

that silent stare

no coin nor care

broke AC

locked out

locked in

automatic to manual

torn at the seam

twice towed

perpetually late

zillion mistakes

bags and buggies

plants and poems

donut donations

homeless help

first story

last

somewhere to be

nowhere to go

empty and full

backing out

moving forward

review mirror

yeah, I hear ya

volume down

quiet raised

lane change

belly to baby

her eyes in my mirror

his kiss on my lips

yard sales with Granny

potatoes and gravy

memory a mile

sighs and sorrow

be better

tomorrow

TL

Flow

took a walk

in the sand

and wrote

your name

by hand

and bit

by bit

the letters

sipped

into the sea

where all names go

to be

TL

Canvas

she painted

this picture

some lady named,

Faye …

not know

not spoke

not wrote

not broke

yet does one

have to

know or speak or write or break

to meet another

on the way

of which

there was

no claim

this brown basket

weaved in brush

carefully constructed

and artfully construed

to stand ever

on its own

with or without

weight

in this sublime state

a decided stroke

was made

to fill the empty space

with wild vines

white with bloom

that, over time, would

ripen red

TL

More or Less

mid the morning

rain

the flags hang

like wet feathers

and the streets

are high gloss

and the guy crossing it

is baptized

on his bald head

and the lights

are blinking red

and the woods

are wet

with spring

and the fruit

in the bin

is turning …

like a woman

like a man

peeling back

to core

before there was

a layer

or a shape

or a shade

or a scent

before there was

more or less

TL

Timeless

crack open

the round rind

and the rain spills out

sending the seed

South

where the sun

melts in your mouth

and the fields

are gutted

ready for rebirth

and the cattle is king

for a day

and the corn

for another

and the clouds are bleached

and the red clay

is baked

and rising

and the fish in the drink

are leaving a wake

and the stadiums are split

in four quarters

and a beauty queen

is crowned cream

and you can walk to church

if you want

and there’s the radio

dialed FM

and there’s the lift and fall

of shadow boxes

buried beneath

the bleach

TL

The Line

mortal eye

below

snagged

a morning

shadow

ever small and meek

soar contained

wing reposed

and body bowed

it stood alone

in perfect balance

long a lofty limb

where there

it held the line

not against

the wave of wind

but ever with

immersed

TL

Star

the tree

at the end

of the drive

had a halo of light

that shown each strand

of blinking bulb ever more

in the pitch ever more

in the shadow, height and width

and without a cord, without an outlet

this tree did shine

for drops of rain

need no line

TL

Love Song

the base

of beginning

may be covered

albeit forgotten

but no less

there

for a baby’s needs

are but basic

neath the shelter of trees

be it

food or drink

clean diapers

or sleep

or someone

to sing

a certain song

that will last

however

long

for when

the lullaby

is neigh

and the back

too stooped

to see stars

and the grass too brown

to be green

and the faucet too hard

to turn

there is

but the base

neath the shelter of trees

be it

food or drink

clean diapers

or sleep

or someone

to sing

a certain song

that will last

however

long

TL

History

the stories

of old

were bought

and sold

and taken

a……………………………………………………………..part

piece by piece

and put back how

forced or fell

depends on the puzzler

what dreams, what doubt

child or cynic

“man or mouse”

piece for piece

what’s left out

TL

Sent

in and out

of Grace

we go

and we

live

as if we

know

as if we

were

meant for

this

not for that

yet if

you’ve ever

heard

an infant cry

in sleep

and heard

how deep

the by and by

how hurt

the weep within

then you know

the longing

of the soul

from whence

you come

whence

you go

TL

Rainbows

under

crayon clouds

the grass

is always green

and the leaves

never leave

the trees

and the rose petals

never droop

and the sun

is never sad

and the water

is always blue

and the stick figures

have lollipop faces

and the random heart

always means

love

TL

 

Old

too late

if you wait

too long

TL

Waiting Room

and the clock

on the wall

folded its hands

and away in my mind

thought of a different time

and it still doesn’t make sense to me

and I’ve talked to God about it

seven to date

and it always starts with, why

my mortal mind needs answers

my soul needs none

and I thought about this

as we waited

from sun to moon

for the clock

on the wall

to unfold its hands

for the boy-man to walk down the hall

through the double doors

to tell us what we needed to hear

“she’s born”

TL

Seashell

when you

have outlived

your shell

left it

in the sand

would that

you sea

and begin

again

TL