Rebellion of the Rug Mice

Rebellion of the Rug Mice

I heard skitters on wood floorboards
so faint…barely perceptible…
there in the still winter cabin
I stopped reading…slowed breathing…
listened…there again…
the scritching
 
I recalled then… 
the nibbled edges on a book…
faint yellow staining
on the kitchen window ledge
 
should have brought the cat
 
a flicking on the floor…
there they were
…the two of them…
unblinking…motionless…
smoke-smudge gray
against confetti colors
of the braided rug
 
wind rattled chimes upon the porch
logs in the fireplace sparked…
I could have thrown my book…
instead I ceded them the field
…companions for the night…
for I had no lust for the death
of their outrageousness

 Bonnie Marshall

 

Stereopticon

There is a picture place
somewhere within the mind
much like a stereopticon…
that magic lantern
where images reside…
so that occasionally
we summon memories
to surface into thought.

Click. Brown tobacco leaves
sequestered in the eaves
of a barn in Tennessee…
aroma benediction
of honeyed potency.

Click. La Sagrada Familia… spirit flight
design intensity… rainbow infused glass
stone spires ascending to Barcelona blue.

Click. Quail covey…
flushed from smoke-gray chaparral
feet speed-blurred
beneath mottled plumpness…
vaguely Egyptian topknots
trembling in the dash.

We savor more illusions
click…click…click…
’til sated contentment
dims their clarity.

Bonnie Marshall

In Praise of Holding Hands

In Praise of Holding Hands

We sense intent
in a newborn’s grasp…
surprising strength…
instinctive…reaching out
for confirmation
of humanity.

So begin
synaptic pathways
for mindfulness of touch… 
summoned remembrance
from deep realms of feeling…
lingering and sensate…
of those whose hands
we have truly held.

Bonnie Marshall