The Poetry Of..
Suzanne Aubin................................................
A Roomful of Women
A roomful of women
In flannel pajamas
That's what I want
For God's sake
I am fifty today
And I need to map out
The next decade of my life
In the last one
I moved four times
Left my husband
Bought my first house
Flew an airplane
Skied down
A mountain
Agonized over daughters
Becoming women
I want hugs
And cheerful toasts
Accolades and anecdotes
Champagne, candles
And decadent cookies
I want the stories
That makes us all
The wise women
We have become:
Wrinkles, grey hair
And classic black
Taking over
The striking gypsies
We once were
I want the giggles
And the tears
From re-living
Then years
Of friendship
I'm OK
You're OK
Hands around
A coffee mug
Kids will be all right
You have done a good job
Where on earth are my friends
When I want to feel special?
I am turning fifty today
And no one is dancing
One more decade
Of real living
And no one is singing.
Talking Laundry
You talk laundry
while I draw the Mayan alphabet
late at night
zoning out, stretching lines
on paper
What to hang and what to dry
does not connect with my thoughts
I am trying to pick out the shapes of the jungles
straw huts and huilpiles
pressed into rounded-edged squares
with a flip, a flare of the line
at the end
or is it at the beginning
You would see them too
if you peeked
over my shoulder
if your eye caught the line
if your hadn't brushed mine
if you just didn't stand
in the doorway
talking laundry
The tortilla maker
She dresses
in the dawn as the new light
filters in grey slants
she moves slowly
shuffling her feet
on the packed dirt
the match crackles
the flames leap up
to the shadows
beneath her eyebrows
her fingers, still asleep
knead the dough
in stiff motions
moist balls on a wet cloth
the children stir
and listen to her
tapping the corn balls
flat in her hand
the sound of waking,
of coming back to life
from the dark places
of their sleep
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