Come, Sweet Valkyrie

The Sea is spitting them out lukewarm,

Fish-eyed corpses flopped on the shore.

Some barely breathe.

The rescuers hustle to save the ones they can.

The jeep bursts along the shore in fits

To stop and check

For a pulse, or a breath, or a sign.

I hear them muttering under their breath,

“This one is too far gone.”

They move to the next one without looking back.

They call for me to come,

“Valkyrie,” they shout as they walk.

“Valkyrie,” they say.

“Come with your swan wings

And penny his eyes.

Come, Sweet Valkyrie.”

-jenn long

The Girl in the Fishbowl

Where has she gone?

The girl in the fishbowl?

Everyone loved to see

Her swim so sadly,

A lonely mermaid,

A goddess among the other small fish.

The aquarium stands

Sparse now

Beyond the cluttered checkout

To the right of the exit at the Chinese café.

But I didn’t see her

When I stood in line there

After lunch, as I waited to pay.

And I noticed that others,

As they chatted casually,

Mentioned the fish girl’s abandon.

Her post is so vacant—

The big tank so boring—

Now, with the fish girl so gone.

Where has she gone?

The girl from the fish bowl?

No one seems to know.

I hope she’s found a real life somewhere,

Where none of these customers go.

-jenn long

Finger in the Sand

I asked him how it had come to be

That humans had understood,

That the shape of the earth was a big round sphere

And also, if he would

Explain to me how the wisdom had come

That the sun doesn’t rise and set,

But that it is the earth’s rotation

On its axis that draws out the silhouettes

That grow dark in the evenings,

And brings back the morning shine,

And one other thing I wanted to know,

If he had but a little more time,

And that was how the ancients had garnered

That the moon is nearer than the sun.

For if one merely takes into account

Appearances of sense’s wisdom,

Sometimes the Great Ball of Fire

Seems more reachable.

It burns low in the hot noon sky.

Its energy offered is readily felt

While the moon sits cool and high.

And so he simply took his finger,

And diagrammed there in the sand,

Cosmological equations of simple dynamics

And differential derivative equations.

He told me as he drew them

All of these answers and more,

But, for the life of me

I can’t relate them,

So mesmerized, I, on that shore

Was, by his presence, and personality and

His knowledge of earth and of heaven.

He finished with, “Any more questions, Mom?”

For he was all of seven.

-jenn long

Braille Body Language

Your lips speak a tongue

Of bon bon deception,

Whispering softly,

“Hard to get."

Lucky for me,

I’m blind and deaf,

And Braille the only brogue

My heart may yet forget.

My fingers are tracing

Your body’s language,

Reading so clearly

Between the lines.

My hands are interpreting

Your body’s posture,

Your turgid neck and shoulders,

Your stalky spine.

Yes, your body is telling me

A different story,

Quite unlike the thin façade

That quivers from your mind’s eye.

“Come and get me,” says your torso,

In a confident, low baritone.

“Start with me, right here,”

Begs your lonesome, sinewy thigh.

-jenn long

Nightmare @ Noon

Terrified of the natives here,

They seem to want to eat me.

See them crouch around me, crowding me,

Poking me with their prods?

They don’t laugh at my jokes here,

Or understand my humor.

They don’t want to translate my lingo,

Just sacrifice me to their gods.

I cooked a brilliant pot roast,

And no one bothered to eat it.

I forgot to put it in cold lock

And will have to throw it away

Ruined. Another dream of mine begun,

And I made it as far as the prison fence.

Might’ve escaped, if I’d had the strength

To climb the thing today.

Lost my children, for decades.

Found them on the way to the swimming pool,

In the charge of a fickle goddess

Who turns man-eater at a drop

Of liquid. They jump in!

I’m chasing, ever chasing them!

Trying, ever trying to prevent

Things one can never stop.

-jenn long

Needed Capitulation

A phantom mist of grey stands near.

It wakes me from my slumber.

Surprised, my eyes try to form it

Into an image that I know.

It’s not manipulate-able.

It doesn’t respond to my bidding.

Un-swayed by my thoughts or wishes,

It remains in its nebulous haze.

Suspicious instincts rise in me.

I plot its assassination.

In the zero sum game, one must lose.

One of us must die.

A vast door creaks ajar a bit.

Crevice light floods me with understanding.

I, myself, am the evil one.

I must let it kill me.

The knowledge of needed capitulation

Is sure, but will I fully surrender?

Can I release my centered self?

My strain to self -preserve?

Something assures me that if I will,

A new level of Soul will speak through me,

An unknown strength, deep peace, sweet energy

Will heal me to a wholer whole.

-jenn long

Is the Daisy Judged?

Is the daisy judged
Because its seed
Fell into an arid ditch,
Where not enough rainfall
Moistened its root
To nourish its stems to grandest height,
Or its petals to fullest bloom?
It did the best it could.

I've done my best,
And this my prayer:
That when I fall,
And my seeds have blown,
That they will find more fertile fields
In which to sprout and grow,
And that the tiny part of my life

Which carries on in theirs,
And that which is changed

To that which shall be then,
Be hailed by the confirming echoes

Of enchanted creation,
“It

Is

Good.”

-jenn long