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©2016-2018 by Pat Durmon, Poet. Proudly created with Wix.com

October 28, 2019

Through the modest window above their bed,
the young woman lay still and listened to voices
of passersby with words lifting and falling.
She waited in the dark for coolness to find her.
Her fast ears wandered and scanned the surface
like a submarine, shyly listening.


O...

October 21, 2019

I never thought about living
in a nursing home until a social worker
declared that Mother needed the care
given in such a place. The words whirled,
swooped and kicked in the door
of her house. No compromises. Her mind
fought against leaving irises, gardenias,
hydrangea...

October 14, 2019

Bright and sassy, Joy caught
a cowbird with a broken leg.
She mended it, taught it to whistle,
named it Ringo, gave it a television.
Bebopping around, she modeled
how to walk like a bird.
Then she sang a Beatles song to Ringo,
letting her ponytail flippity-flop.


One st...

October 7, 2019

Outside, a scowling mass of black clouds refuses to let
a ray of light pass through. Leaves tug at trees.

Thunder crumples sky, lightning tears at it. And now, rain!

It pelts sharp and fast on the tin. Inside, a restless volley

of words. Hot tears from the woman. She runs...

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