Here are a few poems I hope you'll enjoy. All of these have been published before in literary journals (copyright reverted to author)
There are fishermen who pull stars from the ocean,
who gut them on deck while they steam
breathe the scaled-down light of fish sides.
At 15, I was no innocent,
knowing, itself, is enough,
as my parents' parents said
to the allies. How could we not be
aware? We picnicked with guns.
Pale as all the pawnee grasslands,
blue shades cling drily to their roots:
wilderness fades, snapped in our hands;
Such roses may come out!
Such thick thorns and scented petals
blooming out of our tongues —
it's hard to close the lips
We've become too literal:
we can't take a joke
or a pill or a chair
without prodding, sniffing
There was a map of Vietnam
above the television set, and mother
said it's a war all right. We
watched it over dinner, keeping
track of it all as best we could.
Copyright © 2019 LA Fleming – All Rights Reserved.