Thursday, May 20, 2021

Mowing Cambodia

Sweat runs down my face like the blood of three million victims. I have been mowing Cambodia.

I trim close to the neglected flower beds that lie all around the house like mass graves and swerve to avoid stones for fear they might be covering landmines.

When I pick up
branches in my path they turn
to bones in my hand.
I turn off the mower and relish the silence
for a few seconds before I hear birds
fly over like bombers. -- Jeff Barnes

Penultimate


Two lonely graves
sit side by side a universe apart.
My grandparents are estranged in death
as they were in life.
My sister died piecemeal,
losing a little of herself
every day for twenty years,
her muscles knotting and her legs failing,
her vision blurring and her words slurring,
her brain regressing
until she drowned
in her own lungs.
My father is a box of cremains.
His exit was swifter if less lamented.
He rests on a shelf in the mortuary,
unclaimed after all these years.
My mother is fading to white.
Her hair is as white as her face,
her face as white as her pillow.
She shrinks a little more
each day and eventually
will dissolve into her sheets.
This cloistered road
is my favorite place in October.
Driving through this tunnel of trees
every day I savor
the fiery leaves contrasting
the gray sky.
I will savor them every day
before they fall,
leaving bare branches reaching up
like the hands of skeletons. -- Jeff Barnes

Friday, May 14, 2021

The Ballad of Woody and Rita

Woody Canoebubble always wore
a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts,
sandals, and a Peruvian hat.
One morning he spilled hot coffee
on his left knee because,
unbeknownst, to him he was using
a false cup and saucer
which couldn’t hold liquid at all.

Realizing that he was out of
band-aids and salve, 
he walked to the drugstore to get some,
accompanied by his pet,
a sparse dove named Dave,
who was never up to flying but always
rode on Woody’s Peruvian hat.

The cashier at the drugstore
was a redhead named Rita,
whose smile made her face
resemble an incised moon.

Woody told her he was fascinated
by her shuttlecock volva 
and her striped engina
and she almost slapped him until
she realized he was speaking of
the seashells she kept on 
the counter for luck.

He called her Strawberry Top
because of her red hair and
said he had fallen in love with her.
She said she had always
found love to be an unequal, bittersweet
thing, but he promised her it would not
be so this time.

He asked Rita to marry him
and she agreed to do so
at 4:00, when she got off work.
He came back for her at 4:00
and, because of her sensitive skin,
she put on a heavy bonnet
when they left the store.

After walking around the city a while
they happened upon a cathedral
where they met a bishop wearing
a ghastly mitre but, despite that,
he seemed a nice enough fellow
and agreed to marry them on the spot.

After the ceremony, the three of them
(Woody, Rita, and Dave the sparse dove)
thanked the bishop, took a taxi
to the airport and, flying on a new
airline called Atlantic Turkey Wing,
embarked on their honeymoon. — Jeff Barnes

Sunday, May 9, 2021

Post-Mother Mother's Day Haiku

Rainy Mother's Day.
we have no plans anyway.
Just another day. - Jeff Barnes