Laundry

by Annemarie N’ Churre’in

Here in the Indian foothills,
I share a house with a man from Greece

who speaks no English perfectly,
disappears for days on a motorbike,

leaves his laundry on the low make-shift line,
grieving an absent sun.

Side by side they hang: his shirt, my summer dress
as if they know each other well

and when he returns, smelling of engine oil,
monsoon, rolled brown cigarettes,

we have no formal language
to share our separate joy.

Drip-drip on the balcony,
a queer, white pool gathers below.

He holds at a sleeve, looks to sky.
I open my palm for signs of rain.

###

Annemarie completed an M. Phil in Creative Writing at the Oscar Wilde Centre, Trinity College Dublin. Her poems have been published widely in Ireland and the UK and have appeared in Poetry Ireland Review, Stinging Fly, The SHOP, The London Magazine, Agenda Magazine and The Morning Star. In 2011, she was short-listed for the UK Erbacce Poetry Prize. Annemarie lives in Dublin and is currently completing her first poetry collection. She is contactable at Creativeceardlann@gmail.com

Dinner with Rousseau

(in Memory of Henri Rousseau, artist)

by Cynthia Lewis-Jones

Fine dining in a clearing in the Jungle
Nude, but for her Peacock Choos
Sitting at the Table
Covered in Crisp White Linen Cloth
Laid, with Silver Knives and Forks
Wine Glasses of Red Lilly Petals
With Long Green Stems
A tigers head parts the Foliage
Regarding her from his Leafy Lair
The Sommelier in Suit lights the Candles
And recommends
While Monkeys Smirk, and Stare
And, leaves, like flames, lick her skin
The wine is served
And the Hors d’oeuvres brought in
The Parrot tells her that the main course is worth the wait
Entrecote with Mustard Sauce, served on a bed of Mache
Out walks Rousseau in Black, with Silver Tray
Desert
Green Tea Ice Cream
On a bed of Bamboo Leaves
Et un Petit Cafe

Saturday Midnight

by Charles F. Thielman

The rust iron wing of a train horn
pinballs down glass and steel canyons,

headlights sweep our shadows past
a mural, circle of hands touching hands

of all colors, framed by two whales
planting songs in a darkening current.

The hope of public art not altering realities
as sirens thorn over a nearby avenue.
The dark boas of city streets hours
from releasing gray dawn, this jazz joint

in full hop and bop, opening door
releasing a river of sax notes plying drum

and piano rhythms as the current
rivulets over iron-mesh caught rocks.
Hot mist catches streetlight yellow
en route to swirl above drain grates,

my veins filling with inks and colors
for page and canvas as I shoulder inside

a jazz solo, guitarist picking through what
aches after my work-week of unloading trucks.

###
Raised in Charleston, S.C., and Chicago, educated at red-bricked universities and on city streets, Charles has worked as a youth counselor, truck driver, city bus driver and enthused bookstore clerk.

Married on a Kauai beach in 2011, a loving Grandfather for five free spirits, Charles inspired work as Poet, Artiste and shareholder in an independent Bookstore’s collective continues! He organizes readings at the store.

And not a few of his poems have been accepted by literary journals, such as The Pedestal, Poetry365, The Criterion [India], Poetry Salzburg [Austria], Battered Suitcase, Future Cycle, The Oyez Review, Poetry Kanto [Japan], Tiger’s Eye and Rio Grande Review!

See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-5-G_jaoJY for a sample of Charles participating in a group reading at said store, Tsunami Books, Eugene.

The Lane

by Annemarie N’ Churre’in

Breathless, the whole way
down, skimming
fuchsia, rag-ferns,

to the road below
where an old school bus
waited;

a stream of girls,
wet hair trailing
a scent of apples

in the left-behind air,
orchards
imagined us

fetching from wells,
pitchers of silver equations,
poems, plant names.

In the evenings,
pale foreheads throbbed,
small steps

returning uphill
fell
into careless unison,

something
on those short journeys
between worlds

conjured
sisterhood
from unshared histories,

separate blood,
incomparable desires
after summer

when the lane
was high with new grass
and each girl

had her own dream
to swim
in the greenness.

###
Annemarie completed an M. Phil in Creative Writing at the Oscar Wilde Centre, Trinity College Dublin. Her poems have been published widely in Ireland and the UK and have appeared in Poetry Ireland Review, Stinging Fly, The SHOP, The London Magazine, Agenda Magazine and The Morning Star. In 2011, she was short-listed for the UK Erbacce Poetry Prize. Annemarie lives in Dublin and is currently completing her first poetry collection. She is contactable at Creativeceardlann@gmail.com