I have two poems on the Lothlorien Poetry Journal site today. Here is a link:
https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2021/11/two-poems-by-steven-deutsch.html
and the poems. You can get the actual format of the poems on the link. I can’t make the blog behave.
Where I’m Writing From
A library cubicle—
under a flickering
fluorescent—
watching sleet
cover the trees
through the spattered
window. Tea icy
and ideas
as stingy as the heat.
But, I swear
it won’t
always be that way
In the sun,
with coffee
and croissants
that replenish
themselves
like that porridge
pot in Grimm.
With a view
of the beach,
and children
laughing
like Munchkins
after the Witch
of the East
was squashed.
And, it will
be going well—
my hand barely
able to keep up
with the words—
like I had
a laureate
whispering
in my head.
And you’ve written
to say
you’ll join
me soon—
although the drive
is a long one—
a happily
ever after—
I know,
like the tales
we once cherished
as children.
Balter
“In the end,
you are left
with just your
memories,”
my cousin Eddie
murmured.
It was just after
his third cardiac
event, and there
wasn’t much meat
left on his 6’
4” frame.
I wondered why
they called them
events—as if you
might purchase
a ticket to attend.
We called him
“Too Tall”
and I remembered
that his favorite
expression as a child
was “willya sign
my cast.”
“Too Tall” was always
falling down
or getting up—
prone to trip
on sidewalk
imperfections invisible
to the rest
of us.
“Remember when
my parents got
me dancing lessons
for my 12th birthday
and I thought
I’d die of shame,”
he said in a whisper.
“I was graceless,”
he grinned—
“I never told
them how much
I loved those lessons.”
I watched his eyes
linger on a photo
of his wife.
He’d met her in class—
all 5’2’ of her.
So shy
she blushed
when she smiled.
She’d died this winter
leaving her dancing
partner a wall of trophies
and empty arms
I left him
with his memories—
I do believe
he was humming a waltz.
Stevie's Law 