May 23-29, 2022: Poetry from Jane Goold-Caulfield and Peter Mladinic

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Jane Goold-Caulfield

Retired, getting older, losing friends like teeth in a comb. Swimming and writing to stay alive.

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by Jane Goold-Caulfield and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Her Things

In June
in Barbara’s house
her things were there

Her prized pottery
Her skyblue-painted chairs
Her clothes hanging neatly
in the closet
Only she was gone

That day, we failed
to fully grasp her absence
so central in her life
were her things

We wore masks
Sat in the sun
Told stories of her
Scattered ashes
with her spoons

Now the house is empty
Her things flown away
I mourn them
as much
as I mourn her

Though dispersed
among strangers
I trust
each piece
will carry her spirit
into their lives

That way
I can better accept
The diaspora of her things

Peter Mladinic

Peter Mladinic’s fourth book of poems, Knives on a Table is available from Better Than Starbucks Publications.  An animal rights advocate, he lives in Hobbs, New Mexico.

The following work is Copyright © 2022, and owned by Peter Mladinic and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Leave

There’s the door, the night.
Go out into it. Leave.

Down from my apartment
in a park a Sunday concert,
a heart surgeon said of home,
“I don’t miss it.”

Leave,
like the leaves on trees.
Faces we’ll never see again,
an ocean lies between us.

But there’s the Chapel of Hope.
I enter. In the casket lies Roy,
my eldest friend.

Gone but not like the fugitive
hops a boxcar,
or the detective’s sidekick
turns through the revolving wall.

Only death is certain.
Roy in the locker room laced his shoes,
getting ready to walk upstairs,
out the gym door to his parked Cadillac.

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