Tracey Scott Peachykeen

I wish I had a big yellow umbrella
that would keep away all the rain in your life.

I would hold it over your head,
and the drops would splash, splash
and you would never even feel it.

But I don't have a big yellow umbrella -
so I'll walk through the rain with you.

The Summer I Was Sixteen Geraldine Connolly

The turquoise pool rose up to meet us,
its slide a silver afterthought down which
we plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles.
We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy.

Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted
up from ladder rungs across the fern-cool
lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated,
we sunbathed, rose and paraded the concrete,

danced to the low beat of "Duke of Earl".
Past cherry colas, hot-dogs, Dreamsicles,
we came to the counter where bees staggered
into root beer cups and drowned. We gobbled

cotton candy torches, sweet as furtive kisses,
shared on benches beneath summer shadows.
Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille
blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears,

mouthing the old words, then loosened
thin bikini straps and rubbed baby oil with iodine
across sunburned shoulders, tossing a glance
through the chain link at an improbable world.

What I Would Do Marc Petersen

If my wife were to have an affair,
I would walk to my toolbox in the garage,
Take from it my 12" flathead screwdriver
And my hickory-handle hammer,
The one that helped me build three redwood fences,
And I would hammer out the pins
In all the door hinges in the house,
And I would pull off all the doors
And I would stack them in the backyard.
And I would empty all the sheets from the linen closet,
And especially the flannels we have slept between for
    nineteen winters;
And I would empty all the towels, too,
The big heavy white towels she bought on Saturdays at
    Target,
And the red bath towels we got for our wedding,
And which we have never used;
And I would unroll the aluminum foil from its box,
And carry all the pots and pans from the cupboards to the
    backyard,
And lay this one long sheet of aluminum foil over all our
    pots and pans;
And I would dump all the silverware from the drawer
Onto the driveway; and I would push my motorcycle over
And let all its gas leak out,
And I would leave my Jeep running at the curb
Until its tank was empty or its motor blew up,
And I would turn the TV up full-blast and open all the
    windows;
And I would turn the stereo up full-blast,
With Beethoven's Ninth Symphony on it,
Schiller's "Ode to Joy," really blasting;
And I would strip our bed;
And I would lie on our stripped bed;
And I would see our maple budding out the window.
I would see our maple budding out our window,
The hummingbird feeder hanging from its lowest bough.
And my cat would jump up to see what was the matter
    with me.
And I would tell her. Of course, I would tell her.
From her, I hold nothing back.

 

Footprints in the Sand             One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.              Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.                   In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.                        Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,                            other times there were one set of footprints.                                     This bothered me because I noticed                                 that during the low periods of my life,                              when I was suffering from                          anguish, sorrow or defeat,                      I could see only one set of footprints.             So I said to the Lord,       "You promised me Lord,          that if I followed you,              you would walk with me always.                    But I have noticed that during                           the most trying periods of my life                                  there have only been one                                        set of footprints in the sand.                                            Why, when I needed you most,                                           you have not been there for me?"                                    The Lord replied,                           "The times when you have                   seen only one set of footprints,           is when I carried you."                                                    Mary Stevenson       Copyright © 1984 Mary Stevenson, from original 1936 text, All rights reserved