Heritage Toys

The display in this cupboard
locked for many years
I had forgotten
toy designers, story managers
a musty lavender reminder
as the doors open
the same families from my childhood
regrouped by these young girls
similar ways, different nuances
golden sunlight Sunday afternoons
now a grey storm impeding day
different spaces
the same wonder
combing the small heads of hair.

Sunday Suppers

the shimmering weekend has ended
illusive, thinking it would last longer
like a never-ending sunset before the abrupt night
a stomach sinking reminder of the homework
abandoned on Friday, the school bag behind the door
long division at the dining room table
and the comfort of baked eggs,
slightly burnt toast the way my sister eats it
or sometimes, the ceremony of a Franco's pizza
big balls of buffalo mozzarella cheese
soothing the inevitable back to school dread.

Falling into Presence

My nostalgia is not obsessive

There is a tourniquet to stop the bleeding memory

It will survive, it has its own pitiless integrity 

We will meet at last on the ridge of the jackals

A lonely  place,

west sun setting space lamentation

From the deep aqua subconsciousness
I slowly wake, swimming to reality for air
My head breaks the surface and gasping
I am back in the here and now
Sunday afternoon distant traffic, slow bird calls.

But the dreams stay for a while in the skin of my forehead
Still sketched, beckoning revisiting
Before they fade too soon.