August Evening

it's national poetry day so i'm re-posting one of my favorites. 

August Evening

sitting next to Connie
old, hard, wooden stadium benches
red paint, chipped, gouged and peeling
she puts on her sweater
I put on my sweatshirt

band plays hits of some artist
we know little of and care less for
overbearing 80's synthesizer
annoys me
she doesn't seem to notice or care

beyond the stage I watch carnival rides
loop, spin and race into the evening
colored lights intensify
sky drifts to darkness

near full moon glows above the trees
growing smaller as it brightens
yellow to orange to almost white

we come to the fair almost every year
it's something we do
we learned this spring she has cancer
treatment, fear, hope shadow our days

we talk a bit, decide to leave
i am ready, but hesitate
how many more times we will go to the fair

merit award 2007 Sue C. Boynton Poetry Contest

Christine Said “No!”

she said “no!”
emphatically
actually there was
an explicative before the “no!”
I will not repeat it
for it belies her image,
at least the one
most want to ascribe to her

we should know better
for even though, as usual,
she was wearing
the cute, trendy outfit,
and that hair,
redder than an Irish Setter
dazzling in the noon-day sun,
whispers of a simmering
fire in her soul

she said, “no!”
to another mechanical device,
a battery powered miracle of modern technology
to (hopefully) improve
her current malady,
which is little more than a continuation
of all the past maladies,
which are only one way
to tell the story of her life

the expletive was deserved
and I think we all agree
that she can say “no!”
any way she wants
that she has had enough
that she has earned the right
to stomp and swear and
shake her fist at things unseen

and we join her in wanting it
to stop, to get better
we pray, we wait, we hope
and we wonder,
frustrated, confused, angry,
but we join her in refusing to give up
for we cannot accept
the alternative

I saw it

I saw it. Tried not to, but it was there. That slight, dark red trickle from nose to lip. Soon she’d taste it and we’d both know. Resignation would overtake us. For so long we’d hoped. For so long we’d prayed. She’d done all the doctors asked. We were good people. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was young, hell we were young. Kids, jobs, friends, dreams. We knew what they’d say. They’d be so sorry. All treatments been exhausted. They’d do all they could to alleviate the pain. I looked at my watch, as if it would make a difference.