Pòg: Gaelic for “kiss”
a snag of swan
a -latry of light
a truss of tree
The first time she heard her name pronounced “Fa-bean” by a cute American boy,
she decided to go by her middle name during her tenure as an exchange student here in the states.
So everyone calls her Marie except me. I tell her she should use Fabienne without hesitation,
and never waste her time with a boy who doesn’t know her real name.
She says, “but I intensively want to attend the Prom” in a winsome voice.
Her English is like flipping through a delightful new book
where some of the pages are kind of stuck together because they haven’t been used yet.
Yesterday, she texted: Merry Christmas! I hope I see us soon!!
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
~ T. S. Eliot, East Coker
The resident next door is crabbing aggressively about Kit’s cat…how it scares the birds off his expensively maintained feeders. Being old and infirmed, watching birds is pretty much all he does while listening to the Detroit Lions or Rush Limbaugh on the radio.
Now I prefer birds to cats exponentially, but this cretin would use a howitzer to kill a mosquito. He’s been known to defy even the weather with his snow blower at 4 am before the snow has stopped falling. He’s equally nasty to everybody, Democrats in particular, so I try not to take this personally. I keep the cat inside during the daylight hours, and I’ve even wasted a whole can of salmon trying to lure it back home.
Still, there appears to be no gentling the old geezer. The most I can do when the cat summons the Kraken to the west is gentle myself…to find my own capacity for compassion or ponder someone else’s example. So I think about the veterinarian I interviewed recently who told me about making a house call out at a trailer where a leathery biker lived…how he gently euthanized the guy’s dog as it sat on the motorcycle, its favorite spot in the world, while the biker told the dog they’d be leaving for warmer climes in the morning…catching sticks in the waves off Baja by dinnertime.
© Liana 12/13
photo credit: W. Templeton, a friend I met at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop
between blue and green
from the core
of existence then
an ice age
life holocened into
a terrible kind of beauty
like funeral flowers
or a firebreak
© Liana 12/13