The Shine Journal
Exceptional Flash, Poetry, Art and Photography!
Three From Sandra Anfang
Fin
The last time you held court,
your bed loomed
huge around your shrunken frame;
flat on your back
upon the pillowed stage,
you did your best to
stay engaged.
The Wizard switched your body;
The Scarecrow stole your bed.
I never saw them til the film,
Thin-skinned traitor,
flapped off the reel.
By then, the harpies had dug
deep inside your bones.
*****
We were bantering in French
when you broke off,
mid-sentence,
mind still razor-stropped,
lips too weak to cut words.
So long, lone sailor,
I'll remember everything--
for mom--
You in your dress blues,
gold stripes at the wrist.
leaning up against the rail.
How you eyed her with a hint of lust,
your Hudson River belle.
Mom's projector's jammed since you've been gone.
I tinkered with it, but it wouldnt run
forward or back. Your shirts, obedient officers,
still hang without a crease
in the wardrobe where you left them.
She lives her life in present tense,
the newsreel spins remembrance.
Today, we daughters could be two or twelve;
my children might be Dorothy.
Your sixty-two-year marriage, Dad,
an afternoon at the matinee.
Acacia
I wanted a tree to grow up fast,
I welcomed the work, though hard,
so I could watch a miracle
unfolding in the yard.
At the nursery I fell in love
with a purple acacia tree,
prepared the earth, tucked in its bed,
and then I let it be.
Magenta leaves with green below
turned red; the trunk was bare.
The cats used it for a scratching post
but it laughed and didn't care.
In spring I woke to a magic show,
gone were the purple and red.
Gold pollen thick as fingers
burned my eyes and filled my head.
The more I coughed and blew my nose,
the more I craved relief.
I ripped its roots out of the ground,
triumphant in my grief.
Asymmetry (Truth is beauty; beauty truth)
My friend Dan wore a magnet in his eye
to keep the lid from flying
open
while he slept.
Deaf in his right ear, jaw
frozen hard,
a perfect Picasso face.
He limped to the left,
a gift from his brain--
which had wedged a tumor between
itself and the ear.
I loved to watch him walk away,
A boozy cowboy, lurching down the trail.
Motivation: Fin was written around the two-year anniversary of my father's death. It explores the concept of time for those with healthy brains and those with dementia. Asymmetry was a class exercise. We were asked to write on the concept of beauty or beauty as truth; truth beauty. Acacia is an ode to a tree I loved and lost
Bio: I am a teacher, writer and painter living a small northern California town. I find inspiration everywhere, especially in the unremarkable moments of daily life.
Email TSJ:
shinesubmit@fastmail.us
