outside the windows. Even the street
But I sigh and rise, slip my feet
into Monday’s socks —
August’s dusky room cool.
for my parents …
Saw palmettos sputter under autumn sun,
hibiscus burning bright in the landscaped parking lot.
Sand, salt cling to flip-flops, cola cans, skin,
scatter like a trail of breadcrumbs from car to store.
Continue reading Hialeah-Miami Springs, Then and Now – Poem by KB Ballentine
Dawn blossoms May’s moon,
tempts white-winged moths
to worship the dew.
The widow of Coomcallee limps
the river bank, seeks the shallows,
water shushing pebble, stone.
Fog smears the valley,
ribbons of cherry blossoms
pinking dark woods.
Your memory tempts me,
lures me into the mist
where a grouse cackles,
something scampers in shadows.
The bluebirds are back –
spring can’t be far behind.
Bits of blue fleck the feeder
though skies still rain gray.
You are always twenty-six.
I feel your heart in the beat of wind-
shield wipers and rain on the roof.
Whispers from the walls
conquer the silence of the street.
Memories flow into and through
me: you mowing the lawn, planting
roses; her pink elephant, blue tie
scrunched in bow-shaped lips.
Shomerim* at Birkenau
*guardians or keepers of the dead
Tagged with the numbers scarred
on my grandmother’s arm, I step through
the open gate once barred against her.
At the edge of the ocean
I find my center –
the swell and dip of rhythmic waves
journeying from place
to place, never stopping, never
reaching any home –
worrying, teasing the shore then off