Monday, February 17, 2014

Three Poems by Linda Gamble

A Shell in My Pocket

Days pile up in drifts,
trapped between slate sky's
downward sag and earth's
pressing desolation.
Snow's moldy black remnants
dot the street.  Wind bullies me,
gusts at my bulk, whistles
past my ears.  I struggle,
boots filled with winter's weight.

Hands buried deep in pockets,
forage amid crumpled Kleenex,
cellophaned mints,
a long lost button, till . . .
there, bottom left corner,
cheering crescent, chosen
last summer, planted here in fall.
I finger its scalloped edge, inhale
its still salty scent,      smile
walk on.


Dive in -
Waves crash
loosen life's debris,
              free me
from its drowning power.

Limbs tingle,
head clears,     alert
to scent of amniotic brine.
Lungs expand,
salt-licked lips
taste life.  I pull

each swell to me
match their steady cadence
with my pulse,     water flows
over me, -through me
we are one.  Weightless
I float in mother's arms,

Suspended Animation

Yardstick high
Noah's fingers splay
on the sliding glass door
breath stops short
condenses on the cold pane
fogs the world.

Rain drums on the turtle sandbox
sealed in its green plastic shell.
Goldfish swim beneath plops
in a polka-dot pond,    wagon
shiny in its raincoat lies   open
to the sky, filling itself.

Splat!  Just above his head
a raindrop hits the window.
He traces it's path past his face.
Even in this dry cocoon, he hears
ducks squawking at the lake
imagines them happily paddling
in circles, flapping and dipping.

Tossed by a gust of wind
a red ball rolls across
the sodden lawn, settles
in a puddle near the old shed.
His foot itches to kick it.

Linda Gamble is a retired reading specialist from New Jersey.  She has previously published poems in Edison Literary Review, Mused, A Long Story Short, and Camel Saloon.  A poem in US 1 Worksheets is to be published in the spring.

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