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SUNSHINE MORNING by
Michael Keshigian She looked so good that
morning. She seldom looked that good so early, like she made
herself up the night before to look as fine as the sunrise, gold tresses
surrounded her peaceful, pale face. So I stared at her instead as she
shook dawn from her brow and I whispered between
the rays, “you’re the light of my new day.” She smiled and opened
her eyes enough that I fell into her trance, a marshmallow
float in the blue cube enveloped by sunshine.
HONEYCOMB BLUES by Michael Keshigian This is how it
used to be with him and his lover, she taught him a new song every morning, a different line with her head
on the pillow, climbing the
stairway of his spine with a weightless
melody until it filled his brain and he sang as he rolled over to lock his lips around hers so she might sugar his mouth with more honey, her tongue tipping
sweet melodies backwards in his throat. The day was
longing after mornings like that, sunlight a lonely
companion, though the song droned like bees in
the hive all day in his
head.
WILDFLOWERS by Michael Keshigian What is love but the dried-up
bulbs the gardener insists on planting to everyone’s
objections that irrationally burst into magnificent
dahlias. The lunacy of uncertainty, a fascination
of delight, most often unpredictable. Wild grow the flowers of the heart in the garden
of our lives, wilder still blooms affection.
WRITER by Michael Keshigian He imagines us on
the beach, soft sand at our feet just after lunch
when warm rays and a delicate breeze bid
us rest. He considers my
arm around her waist, my body sideways against bikini curves, surrounded
by seagulls that squawk for attention and
the litter seas throw. It’s been so long
for him. He has difficulty deciding
what may be real and occasionally
doubts the idea of our very existence.
PANDA BEAR by
Michael Keshigian Because he was terrified of loneliness, he
granted me life and the ability to share
with him what little time he had remaining. I placated his
hours of isolation. With no mobility, he carried me
everywhere, onto the veranda with its view of the lake on
most sunny days and nightly, in front of
the television. I could hear him limping as he approached
from the hall, his gait, a telltale sign of concern. Will
he discuss his wife’s departure or the
considerable ineptitude of political leaders? Neighbors never
visited, they thought him odd, reclusive, yet I know he
would have welcomed even the most abbreviated conversation. No
one complained about him, he once entered a burning
house across the street to save the
wailing dog, observation, his forte, he knew no one
was home. The woman, living there, who
sobbed incessantly, occasionally waved as she
pulled from out her driveway. These midnight
thoughts are my only escape from his ceaseless
chatter. I stare at him as he sleeps. In the morning,
he will open the blinds and the sun will continue
to melt my button-black eyes to a faded gray. How I envy him.
I yearn for eyelids and a single night of obscurity.
THE SILENT POET by Michael
Keshigian In the beginning it must have been that
the Neanderthal emerged from his
cave early one day into
a cold and ruthless world and noticed for the first time sun’s
reflection glistening upon lake serenity between
twin peaks of a snow-covered summit. And speechless as he might have
been for images never seen, he
fell to his knees, stared mutely, unable to excise the swell in his
soul, and realized each
morning thereafter would speak
differently.
Michael
Keshigian is the author of 14 poetry collections. His most recent poems have
appeared in Muddy River Review, Studio One, Jerry Jazz Musician,
San Pedro River Review, Young Ravens Literary Review, Tipton Poetry
Journal. He has been published in numerous national and international
journals and has appeared as feature writer in twenty publications with 7
Pushcart Prize and 2 Best of The Net nominations. (michaelkeshigian.com)
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