Category: poetry

Hashtag #spoileralert

~ joanvinallcox ~ 1 Comment

Hashtag: #spoileralert
– After reading poems by Emily Dickinson, and Tweets on Twitter

My future hides before me;
The ending pre-ordained.
The losses will continue
But bright joys may remain.

My feet will grow more tender;
My knees and hips more lame.
I may remember much;
I may forget my name.

The ending could be sudden,
Or agonies, – and slow. 
But life that waits before me
Holds time and love and hope.

Lost Password

~ joanvinallcox ~ 2 Comments

I’ve lost the password to what used to be my life.
The air is strange and I’m losing my sense of balance.
I search through remnants in the home I sold,
wondering what to keep, or sell, or trash.

I listen to the chatter of family discord:
recent losses, expected deaths, while mangled hopes
fall like tears, splashing on me,
where I sit, creating a new password.

The Waiting Room

~ joanvinallcox ~ 2 Comments

In Death’s waiting room, I watch
The receptionist checking files, and
I tell her it’s not me. I don’t
Have an appointment
Yet, I hope.

This one here beside me,
Who is looking away and
Doesn’t know it’s time,
Who doesn’t want to go
Into the next room.

It’s not me, I tell her,
Not me yet, I hope.

Caregiver

~ joanvinallcox ~ 2 Comments

“Take care of yourself” they said
But I didn’t know how
To be
That selfish.

“Like on a plane with a dependant” they said
“And the oxygen masks drop down,
Put yours on first;
That’s being responsible.”

Alone,
By the summer lake,
I feel the breeze.

Discordant Dance

~ joanvinallcox ~ Leave a comment 
Discordant Dance

Before I knew I was unhappy
The questions were unanswered.

There was no crisis,
Just the ongoingness
Of dizzying agony.

Without the busyness of costumes,
I became curious:
What shaped these blows?
Why did I accept being thrown away
And jerked back?
Why these steps
In pain
Over and over and over?

How can I stop the dance?
Is it my choice?
Where was this dark dance
Choreographed? 

The mirror watched
As I twirled and twisted,
Watched impassively
Until, finally, a little light bled in.

I almost saw a question,
And twisted away.
I felt an answer trembling at my fingertips,
And closed my eyes.

I tripped, and caught myself
By staring at the mirror.
Again, 
And again.

The mirror saw what I felt:
The dance was shifting, gentling, stretching.

And the questions began shaping
The new choreography.


Against Stereotyping

~ joanvinallcox ~ 1 Comment

Beauty Everywhere- on the Streetcar

The older woman smiles at a baby;
the mother in a hijab smiles back.

The man with a tattoo sleeve
thanks the driver for his transfer.

The proper older lady in her white-trimmed navy blue dress
is gently guided by a dreadlocked younger woman.

The woman in the seat ahead
wears a butterfly-print shirt.

The teen in his black hoodie stands and gestures
the young mother into his seat.

Beauty everywhere.

***

Beauty Everywhere – on the Sidewalk

The young woman in ripped jeans walks
her bike through the intersection

Inside the coffeeshop an older man stops
reading to talk to a kid.

A woman in Tibetan dress walks
with a boy wearing a Spiderman Tee.

A little girl wearing a red polka-dot dress
waves at a streetcar driver.

A woman uses her phone to capture
a front yard flower for Instagram.

Beauty everywhere.