Thursday, September 25, 2014

In a parallel universe,
children don't go hungry
and their parents don't run away
into themselves
into the bottom
of a glass
that shatters all around them
leaving them bleeding

Monday, June 2, 2014


Still lurking in the shadows after all these years
like a faded old film
making barely discernible projections
in a darkened corner.

I remained unenlightened.

Vintage Vision

We reach for the retro
for a time--did it exist?--
that we hunger to be a part of.

We want to better understand ourselves.
Are we so fundamentally different from each other?
Would we have been friends?

We want to understand *you*,
the unmet enigma
staring at something
off in the unseeable distance
from out of an old photograph.

Friday, March 14, 2014

After decades of walking through life’s gardens,
discovering the intoxicating textures and colors
driving leisurely on roads newly-discovered,
sharing our lives,
I never want to lose the taste of it--
of intense new flavors,
like being served exotic food
by someone who can’t help but
love you
on a warm, spring day.

The quiet one
who can't
have fun,
she sits
in the corner
like Little Jack Horner--
like the three little kittens--
there is no pie

His eyes sparkle
like new snow on a moon-lit night,
fiery jewels in a now-weathered face.
His warm complex smile draws me in,
well-mixed as it is with a sadness
indistinguishable from the laughter
as much as sweet cream is indistinguishable
from the bitter coffee it flavors.

Poems © Gemma W. Wilson