The
Poetry Of Karen Heywood
Stream
of Confluence
i
Dry leaves scuttle across the sidewalk
past
traffic and laughter unaware
of their presence,
and mine.
Water sprinkler keeps time with cricket's
chirp, and the Ca-caw, Ca-caw
of blackbird harmonizes
with distant horns
of a marching band.
I cannot remember the color of our high
school uniforms
Chapel bells echo my past, playing
the same tune every hour - the same tune
our steadfast grandfather clock sang
and doorbell rang
in my childhood.
I cannot ignore the chimes, or the scuttle
of time, but I can refuse
to answer the door.
ii
purple Go-Go watch
summer 1969
reminder of time
when
handlebar streamers
flew in the breeze - tickled knees
chasing ice cream truck
and
cupped hands
caught tadpoles
iii
Sit, and rest awhile
between the arms
of where you have been
and where you are going.
In this place
where your dreams led you,
stay,
respect the seasons,
like so many before
who have called this place
home.
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Restaurant
Matters
"Just try it," he'd say, arm
stretched
across the table, fork patiently poised
in front of her protest.
"It's a snail, Dad! I'm not eating
a snail."
"It's escargot. Try it."
He should have been a chef,
with his food fetish,
his insistence for perfection on the plate.
When her salad contained too much
purple cabbage, or her eggs were too runny,
he would send them back-
and leave a penny tip.
She often wonders what he had for lunch
that hot July day,
when he walked out of the restaurant,
and his heart stopped.
And she wonders,
Did he leave a penny tip?
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Somewhere,
Last night, two lay awake,
separate - yet, connected
by the scent of each other
still lingering on their skin.
One listens to the labored breathing
of a sick child - the other,
the distant voice of a sports commentator.
In another life, they would be curled
together in front of the fireplace
of some picture-perfect home.
But he, the ever-loyal Chocolate Lab,
and she, a mixed breed - the kind
you find for free in a Wal-Mart parking lot -
will never rest together.
She rolls over,
buries her nose deep
in her flesh, and sighs
Good-night.
Karen Heywood is a poet, playwright,
and award-winning essayist living her dreams in Mid-Missouri.
She graduated Magna Cum Laude from Stephens College in Columbia,
MO.with a BFA in Creative Writing in May 2007 at the age of 50.
Karen currently teaches freshman English Comp at Stephens, but
asks that you not hold that against her…she really is a
nice person!
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