Poetry

Dispatch #079

The Waiting Room

by K.R. Morrison

Sleeping                awake
in dream, I visited the waiting room
of those always             socially distanced

One crew of ancestor slaves
baked a cake for Saturn         laughing           they poured whiskey shots
Now y’all gotta listen, stay home for the Karma Inquisition.

Two golden girls
sat by the window      anxiety chainsmoking             someone was missing
For you, this isn’t what we wanted, the lonely hospice earth was for us.

Three murdered by profit’s infections
held down the front desk         eyes fixed
on me         the girl late to the party

               you people are symptomless to so much, one said
               time for you to time out. tune in.
               relearn human verbs, live healthy again

Silver Lining

by K.R. Morrison

silver lines are black sandpaper circles branded
               on my feet soles, distanced i walk
                             & bleed barefoot, grounded

silver lines are found dangling
              in Venice’s now emerald & jade canals
                           village kids catch sterling, fresh

                           currency in their green soul
                           pockets, tourists now restricted

silver is the weathered son
                              forced back into dad’s house, men mending
                                            through recipes, raking wounds & leaves

                                            they heal seven generations
                                            of ancestors, accidentally

silver is the line of daughters ready to redefine
                             breeding, armies of Lady Vikings 
                             behind masks, plotting Scumgirl’s Overthrow

silver lining is us, skylines of poets
                             spray painting storm clouds, in moon attics
                                           we swap lost verbs, slip assonance

                                           into death’s lonely tongue

silver lining are musicians quarantined, hibernating
                              in vinyl strewn bedrooms, strumming
                                            up buried lockets hiding

                                            new life chapters, awakening
                                            love treasure & transition

silver linings are circus mirrors
                              from which we peel ourselves, bruised by ego
                                            we jailbreak like raw hematite, facing

                                            our outgrown versions, we dust off
                                            for shadow work, urge
                                            that babychild to color outside

                                            silver maiden lines
                                            paint nameless shades
                                            into next level, crone chapters

sent to us Feb 8 2021

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