NaPoWriMo Week Three

BLACK FRIDAY

ten Mourning Doves flurry across
the flagstones, dust-speckled wings,
something god-like in their descent.

A grey squirrel scratches the top crust
of a potted plant, pecan in mouth;
its body nimble as electricity.

Oyster white tiles and the waft of lint,
familiar Tide in the air, the clutter
and warmth of the laundry room.

A forgotten can of cranberry sauce,
a single lemon, the remains of French
Cut Green Bean Casserole.

Skin bright Clementines shine
an invitation from their rustic box;
orange silence at hearthside.

4AM clamor at Kohls -
imagined wealth, mock war,
elbows and adrenalin.

That second cup of coffee,
sweet as syrup while red-bulbed
shrimp plants burst like fiery pokers.

In a quiet alcove, a woman
is haunted by the deadly thing
stirring under her arms.

She surveys the ads, subtracts
the ordinary from the onslaught:
lymphoma, MD Anderson, memory.

She questions the day, the dip
in temperature, the possibility
that teases, stirring like a vine.

An oak tree splits asunder,
reeds attached to its hide.
Symbiosis fights suffocation.

An oceanic hush now as light
wind tilts the browning leaves.
One Blue Jay sings through silence.