M. J. Iuppa, US

 

 

M.J. Iuppa, US   Free Verse   The Way Things Work   Hesitating mid-step, I turn & plunk myself down on a weathered porch step to review the yard’s calm . . . Close to the road, an ornamental plum tree nods in sleep–branches heavy with hard green fruit that will never sweeten our mouths. In a moment’s whim, barn swallows slice the air open— ecstatic cries–transparent as rain tumbling in sunlight. . . . Beneath my fingertips, bits of garden grit remind me that a day’s work merely leaves off— like bees drowsing in lavender. I think, stillness— yet, nothing is still. Sugar ants set the pace— here to there, there to here— some carrying possessions.     No Stars Tonight   A mood passes over me— its feathery fingertips cast a wild spell— Out here, absurd darkness— who can tell what’s there? Nothing’s certain, yet the danger of what I can’t see is the bird I want to paint.     Two Cinquain   Watchful lone green heron soundless above the pond’s moonlit mirror–slow wings lifting— shudder     Listen until we’re not listening to crickets’ persistent electricity— blown fuse     Free Verse   Out of Time   When twilight passes into the next hour, my sleepless body doesn’t move, but waits at the window, watching stars’ distant light vanish into the sky’s ether . . . Not one name spoken in shadows where our ancient tractor stalled years ago, in the rut that still fills with rain until summer. . . Headlights flicker on and off the road . . . Horses, in the barn’s darkness, shift their weight, murmuring agreement, without any recollection of this happening the day before.