Audrey Howitt

Deafness

on Sundays they come
rounding off hours
plucking out minutes
like string left in a drawer

conscience stirs
as babies cry
words float
in the blues and greens
beside bowed heads

passion and guilt are separated
only by the passage of time

atonement
is wrung from the neck of Sunday’s dinner

 

Fairy Tales I Tell Myself In the Dark

1.
Gathering acorns
she writes recipes
on her hands
wishing them into cupboards
opening cans of beans
smelling her trouble
fisting lies tightly
filing envelopes by color

she takes no other notes
her lights blink slowly
blanketing thought’s ceiling
tracking fear into long envelopes
as she looks for stories lost
amid the weeds.

2.
You stayed where i put you
a knight on a pawn’s space
i believed in fairy tales then

When i learned your name
i fumbled toward something new
hoping that a left turn could bring me
to a street i knew
at the stroke of midnight
shoe in hand
to tell you all the plots i could recall.

3.
Axes fall in starlit woods
felling trees indiscriminately
splintering stocks
poisoning their sap
filling each
with the rounded tongues
of rabbits unable to escape.

Audrey Howitt is a recovering attorney, licensed psychotherapist, opera singer and teacher and sometimes, a poet.  Here is a link to her poetry blog: https://audreyhowittpoetry.blogspot.com/