by

A Prose Poem


Summer Circles Green

Summer circles green and my hair is growing another color, silver/white like tinsel or Christmas tree ornaments or snow on the slanted roof of the artist’s yellow house, who paints her daughter blonde, reclining as in a lawn chair, her oiled canvas stretching now in a museum down the road, where we, on Sunday mornings, relax like swans, drinking flavored coffee from blackened mugs so the darkened rims don’t show.  I despise the dirty rigs on my own blue mugs, like arctic circles, tea rings, skim milk spilling on the wooden floor beneath the picnic table benches.

Summer circles green and my hair is growing another color, preparing cob-webbed gowns we wear like gauze bandages, covering the cigarette burns on our wrists and upper arms, slices of roast beef for the noonday meal, when we should be eating turkey along with last year’s yellowed photographs, boxed memories of three years’ madness, the hospital gowns, green and open in the back, displaying what we’d prefer to hide behind some sturdier covering.

Summer circles green and my hair is growing another color, asking impossible questions about misplaced rooms and lilacs beside the brick house that stained my childhood brown, brown hair like dirty ponds in winter, though I pretended it was red, imagined I was burning, wondering—will I ever be consumed like bread crumbs scattered to the pigeons that roost on slate roofs, cooing, calling—

18 thoughts on “A Prose Poem”

  1. Riveting visuals. The singsong repetition of “summer circles green,” sucking me in like some disturbing old children’s song refrain. The passage of time trapped in the words “and my hair is growing another color.” There’s not a word in this entire piece that isn’t powerful.

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  3. This is absolutely beautiful. Your language is rich, descriptive and just perfect. And now, you are the next recipient of the One Lovely Blog award. (See my post today). You are a lovely person all around!

    It’s funny, my husband has applied for a position in Lexington, KY. We have dear friends there which appealed to us. Now I feel like I have another friend there, even if you end up somewhere else soon. Thank you for sharing your story with us.

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    • Ah, how wonderful! It would be great for you to come to Lexington! We will likely maintain a home here always, as both of our families are here–and we own a home here that we can’t bear to part with—————-

      Thanks for the award! I will check it out!

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  6. I agree with the praise from your other commenters. I wish I had words now to exress how I felt when I read your poem. All I can say in this moment is that your words were powerful for me too, and I’m still sorting out what your images bring up for me. I’m falling in love with your ‘writing voice.’

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