by Vera

Blird - by Vera


I hate how
no matter what I do
she's way in the background
fuzzy and washed in my memory now.

I was thinking for a long while
that it was just because
immediate life is so sharp

that by comparison
Amy is distant,
indistinct,

but no.

Even if I focus on her
she's caught in haze
beyond
what is
life now.

Anger flames me
that I seem to be moving on,
my lens of life
trained on beef jerky and silent packages and
arguments with Lon and
this wind-scoured scrub and
a mining town
this far from what was home.

I still see her.
Amy fading like background.

But if I don't see her at all,
my sister'll really be gone,
and I can't let that happen.

So I'll keep my eye on the blurred distance
and remain angry.

by Vera

BBQ - by Vera


"Of course you're invited," he said
yesterday.

But Lon is chinking bottles round the grill
with Da Boys,
his back to me,
that wide-stance arms-folded rocking posture
guys all do together.

Oh, he gestured with his elbow
to the cooler of beers,
before sweeping gracefully
back again to the posse.

Hospitality at its shortest.

And sitting alone,
I find to my horror
I'm picking up pebbles and tossing them -
the ultimate in
"I'm Friendless" entertainment.

Time to take off,
before I flounder in the webbing
of his low-slung chair.

Stretching,
I fling one last rock
toward Lon's feet
and saunter away back down-trail,
whistling.