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Guests

Guests

 

There’s the outer skin

And then a mask underneath

Of pain

Then maybe underneath the skull,

Things aren’t so bad

Now in the heart of things,

It’s different

There pain enters and resides

Deeply,

And we must somehow get inside

Like a fantastic voyage

Plumb the depths

To find a source

Of everything that festers

We can’t laser it out

Even a scalpel wouldn’t serve

We have to go in ourselves,

Live with it for a while

Reside beside the pain

To understand

Its texture and its grooves, and finally

Where to touch it best

To hold it for a while

Try a tug or two

But if we stay and warm it long enough,

Part of it will start to rise

Away

 

C L Couch

 

 

(Fantastic Voyage, a novel by Isaac Asimov)

 

 

Photo by Macavei Alex on Unsplash

 

3

Giving Way

 

Giving Away

 

A Christian

Wrote a magic book

Don’t ostracize him for it—

Too late, too many

Praise the work

And the worker

And, yes, in the larger family

 

You might know who I mean

You might know what I mean

It’s everywhere, nowadays

Though the worker

Was confused by

Popularity

 

He was used to saying

What he wondered anyone might

Want to hear

Though it was all required at the school

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Unsplash

 

0

Nothing Cynical Today, Please

Nothing Cynical Today, Please

 

I know we’re all supposed to be

So smart,

And we are

But sometimes don’t you want to take

A breath

Then exhale all kinds of things

That really aren’t necessary

On the inside, anymore

 

Take in something fresh

I know it’s hard in a polluted world

But there’s still enough air out there

And in a breeze

There’s dreaming

Give that some air as well

 

I’m going to close up the dark shop

And risk the outside world

Not to get too close

Just yet

But find a sitting place

(you, too),

Not so far away

To look outside and inside

Consider what to keep

What can be let go at last

 

C L Couch

 

 

Shouse Village, Wolf Trap, United States

Photo by Eric X on Unsplash

 

0

Short Story Unit

Short Story Unit

 

I read a story once

One of many stories

Short stories, in fact

A unit we went through

I think it was in seventh grade

 

In this narrative,

Told from a boy’s perspective,

There was a stepmother

He didn’t like so much

No, she wasn’t classic fairytale mean

She was pleasant, but she wasn’t

His first mom

The real one

His mom was prettier

And better in all ways

But she had died

Then dad had remarried

The boy was sad, crestfallen

All the time

 

I don’t recall the lashing out

Because there wasn’t any

But at a dinner out, the boy

Noticed a moment when

His father tucked a loose

Curl up inside her hat,

And then the boy knew that his

Father really loved her

And for his sake

And for his sake,

He should try to love her, too

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Jenna Nguyen from Pixabay

 

3

‘Til the End of Time

‘Til the End of Time

(Ireland forever, as it’s said)

 

My, it’s a grim day outside

There may have been fog

That is yet lifting

All I see is white and gray

It’s unsettling, first thing

To look outside

Today’s the day for green and

Orange

Remembering all the snakes

Driven out of Éire without

Wondering where they went

Well, Guinness is dark

And celebratory

So despite the virus going ‘round

I should perk up a peg or two

Remember the McAnallys

Look for some colors, since

The Irish own the rainbow

If not the gold where

The magic arc

Must someday land

All are Irish?  I don’t think so

But all are welcome

Into the saint’s day

A saint who wasn’t Irish, either

But came to own the land

In spiritual ways

Who is remembered for all

Intents and purposes

As a native

Might we remembered, too,

For something spiritual

And native

Created beings of earth and air

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Wynand van Poortvliet on Unsplash

Saltee Island Great, Ireland

 

0

The Sun’s Indigenous

The Sun’s Indigenous

 

A treat

The coffee

I don’t have to load it

In my buckboard

Like a settler come to town

On Saturday for supplies

Too easy to fantasize

My house on the prairie

Or my split-level

In the east

How much did others pay

For dreaming?

I don’t mean pioneers

Though for their dreaming

They gave much

I mean those who dreamed

Of earthen wisdom,

Already here for centuries

Imperfect

But here first

First people

 

In the world, we don’t respect

Indigenous save for study

(bless the anthropologists

in situ)

The land is there

Just needs some brutal scrubbing

Clear it out for destiny

That we own

 

I’m white

I don’t mind being white

I rarely have to

I rarely have to think of it,

Unless I want to

Call me a lover of dark skin

I am

I have no way to understand reparation

Except that it’s a worthy thought

At least to seek forgiveness

Knowing that each people

Have done each other

That is no excuse for us

Or anyone

To pick up the rope, the chain,

The sword

To take over for intrafamily rivalry

And sin of war that way

Theirs in the first,

Ours in the last

 

I think that colors merge into the sun

I think that I’m idealist

And most likely, oh, so naïve

But I’ll take it for my vision

Keeping in the daylight

Dreaming of at night

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Drop the Label Movement on Unsplash

Azukar Coffee, Phoenix, United States

The subject of this photo, Hannah, radiates authenticity, joy, and beauty in her jean jacket laced with various pins and buttons. This photo of Hannah was captured by Idara Ekpoh in south Phoenix, Arizona, at Azukar Coffee Shop.

 

3

Eccentric Season

Eccentric Season

 

A loud single song out the window

For a second day I’m greeted this way

Whom is it calling?

I’d like to think it was me, but it must be

Another creature

Singing to to say hello, come over here

There’s a divot-space next to the air-conditioner

Might make a nice place for a nest

 

I guess this because it’s happened

More than once

That through the panel I can see bird-shadows

Moving

They come and go for a while

I should worry, and I do, that all goes well

While there is waiting for small, gray life

To emerge—

Usually, they’re gray—

To add their greetings to the day

And the days ahead

 

I think maybe I shouldn’t look through

The window, down so much at what’s going on

I can listen to some small cacophony

Instead

 

Life will emerge, and then the nest becomes

Useless, falls apart, not fit

For a sparrow

My odd season with the nesting birds is over

I’ll clear out what remains, maybe there’s

A crack of egg to see

I tried to bring the rounded twigs inside one time,

But they fell apart too easily

A sparrow wouldn’t want it

Such a fragile operation, all this is

To make more birds

Especially in a small space on the window sill

 

And my own sign in parts that at last the weather’s

Turned into a fecund opportunity

As the planted fields around the town

Will also show, certainly in

Wider, columned ways

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Chromatograph on Unsplash

Hong Kong

 

2

The Quandry of Quarantine

How to live through self-imposed quarantine. Her takes on everything are sound!

Trinity's avatarStephanie Huesler

T Rex Wahing Hands

There’s been a lot of talk about the Corona Virus; in fact, that seems to be the only topic in the news right now; and while I rarely go onto social media sites, I was curious about what’s circulating there, and so I went on yesterday. While I agree that misinformation and scare-mongering are never helpful (and those both seem to abound in social media, like a wildfire virus) I disagree with people’s faulty conclusion that there must, therefore, be no danger of coming into contact with the disease or with the disease itself.

My husband and I have been cautious, we’ve been washing our hands and keeping a distance between ourselves and others, but the fact is, we all come in contact with things that have been in contact with others every day: The coins you use, the door handles you turn, the shopping cart you push, the food…

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2

Heard Outside the Window

Heard Outside the Window

 

Town birds call each other early

For the farmer’s market

In the square

Come on!  They drop the good stuff

All morning long!

We can watch from wires high above

All the antics

We’ll have all the fun

And be filled

We wake up at dawn, and we’re ready

We serenade the humans,

And they’re soft for us

Why not, we like the singing, too

Fit for forest still

But we’ll stay here for a while

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by raza ali on Unsplash

Karachi, Pakistan

Follow your dreams!

 

4

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