Friday, February 6, 2009

poem by Denise C. Banker

All one thing

A field sloped 
to form a gully
along bottom land;
water gathered 
in spring,
wild poppies,
red and orange, 
clotted in among shy-green
blades of buffalo grass.

Life maintained the mare
there, or so we thought,
confined, as we are 
in our minds,
and we delighted
somewhere deeper.

At one time 
horses crowded
a field 

Presence leapt
and ran; nudged
and hid. 

Pranced alone,
too, and bucked
at branches, 
wild in the wind.

And we saw 
all that we saw 
was us. 

And, grimly, we 
kept moving 
in our direction
along the indifferent 

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Poem By Denise C. Banker: After the Funeral

After the Funeral

Grace says to Sarah:
Who would have believed
she'd stand there alone
(for too long a time)
to hug every guest
(they formed a long line)
and not notice the pervert
who paused there three times.