With my body here in Florida
Short sleeves and pants cut off
With my mind there in Connecticut
Distant feeling cut off
I yearn to be able to make snow angels
In Mother’s front yard.
Meanwhile teen age rage explodes
Making real angels
Out of innocent children
In the school yard of Sandy Hook.
In 2011 outside a Tucson supermarket
Six killed, one wounded
July of this year movie theater massacre
Twelve dead, fifty-eight wounded.
Home town childhood innocence
Snuffed out like a bedside candle
Makes no sense
How much heart ache do you expect us to handle?
The President wants flags to fly at half-staff
Why don’t we just fly them that way,
It seems I have been lowering the flag
Every month or so for a day or two
In memory of my Connecticut snow angel memories
In memory of the twenty-six Sandy Hook angels
In memory of the death of home town innocence. .
Poem of the Week
who have experienced
on a large
i tell raif
i think my
might be dead
haven't seen her
& her car hasn't moved
for two weeks.
you would smell it
passing me a plate
of triangular shaped bread
slathered in jam.
Story of the Week
DARLEEN SQUEELED into the empty spot as soon as the gleaming white Mercedes pulled out. "We got lucky," she told Montana. "Even on a Monday night, this lot is killer."
Montana rolled her big blue eyes. "Whatever."
The eleven year old had better things to do, like text her friends. Incessantly, as if she had a tic. The kid hadn't wanted to shop tonight, but Darleen insisted. This was their first Christmas without Paulie and the girls needed to stick together. Darleen's ex had been nasty lately and mediation had hit a cement wall. Montana wasn't aware how dangerously close they were to losing access to Paulie's vast and unreported wealth.
Montana sighed dramatically as she yanked open the door of the Porsche Cayenne and tumbled out. She didn't pause in her texting.
Darlene checked her face in the rearview mirror. The most recent fat transfer had been wildly successful. She loved her new lips. Grabbing her Gucci bag, she hopped out of the front seat.
Her daughter trailed her into the mall, thumbs flashing on her phone keypad.