The Greater Uneasiness

Frank Losue

                             They let her in as if they knew her.

                             Sat her by the fire. Offered her water.

                             It was late summer. The sky seemed

                             to be beating itself to a dull black and blue.

                             In the lofts, the grain was being gone at

                             by the small and usual creatures. She sat,

                             and sipped from an old, chipped cup.

                             They moved to the window and stood

                             staring out into the woods from where

                             she'd come. There seemed to be

                             something coming from within

                             or beyond those familiar trees.

                             But it was not the sound of leaves

                             beginning to grow tense and gold,

                             nor of their turning.

                             It was not the noise

                             a frog would make as it

                             gathers up the dark air

                             in a deep breath,

                             pauses, turns upon the water

                             and quietly descends.

                             It was not the convulsions of the clouds,

                             large and black and swollen, keeping

                             a strange appointment with the sky.

                             They sensed it as they stood there.

                             Looking out. Uneasy.

                             But she knew

                             what was coming.

                             What had made

                             their eyes grow wide.

                             What had overtaken them.

                             And just sat there, silently,

                             watching them;

                             watching them standing there

                             above the cup's cold rim,

                             as she brought it lower,

                             to her lowered lip.                

                                      Submitter Bio:

Frank Iosue was born in Los Angeles, California in 1951. He holds

a Bachelor Of Arts degree in English from California State University, Los Angeles and a Master Of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing / Poetry from The University of Iowa / Writer's Workshop.

He has conducted writing workshops, been a featured reader at venues around Southern Arizona, and has served as a judge for numerous national poetry competitions through the National Federation Of State Poetry Societies. He also served as judge for the 2022 California State Poetry Society Annual Contest.

His poems have appeared in numerous publications and online journals. He has published 11 chapbooks of poetry, which were compiled and published in his volume The Au Revoir Of An Enormous Us : Collected Poems ( 2017 ).