TAMMY VITALE

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20th was written but the 21st and 22nd got written at a show at The 9:30 Club, in D.C., watching Rival Sons – great band Ipril 20 just discovered and hubby just rediscovered.  I had to memorize some words for each as a doorway to get back to them, dashed them off in my mileage book on the way home so I wouldn’t lose them.  By any means necessary, right?!

April 20

(untitled)

Silence lays over the too hot land
like a blanket – Wind was called for
but ignored the plea, hiding
under rocks in the valley whose name
no one can remember – you know the one –
it floods whenever there is too much sun.

Even the leaves refuse to whisper rustles,
missing their breezy playmate, turning
their leaf backs up to the sky as if
praying or waiting for rain.  The ocean
is sullen and calm, there will be
no waves in the water today.

The ice in my glass melted on Monday,
and I haven’t moved to replace it because
the fridge broke down and everything
is wasted.  The grass is brown, would
sizzle were it not for the quiet which
seems now to sound like a Siren or Banshee

calling us all to a place which may not even
exist, may be a figment of some god’s
imagination, or perhaps in the twilight dream
of some awakening goddess or fairy who
has decided to take back her realm, healing
its wounds, wresting it from the hands of its killer.

April 21
Gold

On the other side
of the rainbow we are all
still seeking treasures.

April 22
If

If I were magic, I would
invite four frogs to spit into the center
of a thrice drawn circle, six
salamanders to donate their tails,
twelve spiders to spin silk threads,
then I would gather kindling,
light a fire, and out of the fire
and smoke swirling up towards heaven
would come the thrum of a bass guitar,
the pop of a tight snare, the pulse
of a kick drum sending waves through
the air, and when that happened I
would open my mouth and drink it all down
like cherry wine, red drops glistening
on my lips, dripping down my chin, and
you would rise from the green earth, reach
across the dark night to touch my face and kiss
me ’til we drowned in all that music.

 

2 Comments

  • thanks, Jackie! appreciate your stopping by!

  • Love, Love. In Untitled…This “hiding
    under rocks in the valley whose name
    no one can remember – you know the one –
    it floods whenever there is too much sun.” the rhyme and rhythm…wonderful…and same rhyme and rhythm here “their leaf backs up to the sky as if
    praying or waiting for rain. The ocean
    is sullen and calm, there will be
    no waves in the water today.” It’s like a little dance.
    .
    .
    Nice Haiku in Gold
    .
    .
    Love If. Your command and understanding of nature rises again.
    .
    Beautiful read! All of it.

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