Author Archives: Janet Buck

The trail’s arch just weeks ago
began in such firm dignity.

"Yesterday, we had a nice brick house and four vehicles.
Today, we don’t own a toothbrush."

Susan Henry
Mossy Grove, Tennessee

I pull at my husband’s arm
as if that tug will tether
a strand of my hair to a braid.

With folded hands but answerless.

Cairo to Luxor. Islam’s biggest feasting hour.

Our posit on a curled hook, hanging straight like slaughtered beef in lockers of our chosen chill. Our sins and organs all contained. The cows had no choice. And I lament our still lives on their way to death. We shut down music in the mid-stream of a song. (Unwind, is all) we often say. [...]

The bottle stops the clock.

Come sit with me, in valleys
of my shoulder blades,
whistle something in my ear

No PC art could rescue her;
this thinness where thick plump belongs.

In a beauty shop called Perfect Look
your blindness sits upon a couch.

I promised you, I know, I know—
I’d wash a gravel pile of clothes

It’s half-past two,
sunny as a shiny penny
rubbing pockets of the world.

“The ceremony of innocence is drowned…”

Mother, you are my dream scroll…