Annette Gagliardi has poetry published in the Southwest Journal, Dreamers Creative Writing Online, Down in the Dirt Online Magazine, Trouble Among the Stars, Poetry Quarterly, Poetic Bond and others. She has work in three State’s poetry anthologies and her poem “Gourmand of Orange” has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Her poem “Lakota” won 2cd place in the South Dakota State Poetry Society’s Annual Contest. Annette is also the author of the children’s books “Resourceful Erica” and “The Three Betty Goats Griff.” Visit Annette on the web here.
The following work is Copyright © 2021, and owned by Annette Gagliardi and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Once the night swallows
the moon rising over the water
and the neon porch light returns the song
to crickets, katydids & frogs,
she creeps back into
the shed to sleep
and gives him the key to the room behind
the lake to use as he chooses.
The lake has only been used
forever in myriad ways
but, just for tonight he
winds his wishes into
her threadbare walls. Her body
offered up like the daily special,
could be anyone’s plate. As the cabin
settles into the night, their love is shaved
like the thanksgiving turkey –
sans gravy. Save the pie for later.
Melanie Browne is a poet and fiction writer living in Texas.
The following work is Copyright © 2021, and owned by Melanie Browne and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Little Riata (Driving around the LBJ Ranch)
the cattle are branded
with a big “LBJ”
They are used to
people and we
roll down the window
like we are at
a safari park
We pass the ranch
look like Reata
for a Bar-b-que
picnic to meet
can’t hack the heat
I lose interest
but we visit
of Lady Bird
my 15 year old
says it looks
like an ordinary
grave and that
is because he was
recently in DC
and thinks every
has the pomp and
We leave the ranch
and count the
may care less
stare of the
Daylight Savings Time
I watch Rick James with the sound off.
Can’t sleep. it’s the Daylight Savings. It’s after
midnight. My scalp itches. Grandpa used
to sit in the easy chair and watch golf with
the sound off. He didn’t play golf. Maybe it
was a form of meditation. Golf is the same with
and without sound. Grandpa. Chair. The no-Sound Golf.
Rick. James. you just can’t help it.
He had those tight sequined outfits and
silver threads in his hair. A woman in his
video is violating a lamp post.
He says there were girls you
don’t take home to mother.
He kept a lot of secrets from her.
I think he used the term “mother”
existentially. This existential Mother
could read the tea leaves in groupie lipstick.
Fuchsia means good luck. can’t. keep my eyes open
Silver threads fall in front of my eyes.
I turn the bedside lamp on but it doesn’t help.
I’m falling now, silver thread on the pillow.
Silver on the floor.