If I look up at the light in the laundry room, are you there? Years? Yes. God, yes, it’s years passed, but, I want it to be you, want it to smell, to taste like you, in that light, want it to be you to reach down and pull me up, push away a silted [...]
Tag: Carmen Eichman
A Departing by Carmen Eichman
I don’t remember his actual leaving. Put on your “pretty” dress and hold your new Barbie lunch box, I was told, its shiny thermos made of glass. I stood before my closet, perplexed. Which dress to pick for a Vietnam departure? How does one, at four, know what the hell Vietnam is anyway? Despite, I [...]
Petals and Desire by Carmen Eichman
He moves from Mahler to Bernstein, each transition the drop of a Dogwood petal from his tongue, a sweet cloistering of breeze and air and whispers that stroke my neck, my thighs with lust and longing and love. Stories of children pining for Heaven, cowbells tinkling, and abusive husbands that perfect the adagio notes of [...]
True Intelligence by Carmen Eichman
A slumber dried my brain, parched my reason. Slept too long waiting for a dream to develop that dissolved into darkness. Ignorant inertia, its torpid descent into a lion’s den, warm closeness, soft coat, coaxing purr, a ruse to devour my logic. Sweet, sweet protector turned predator its teeth now bared spurs me to dive [...]
Celebrating by Carmen Eichman
Luscious sleep beneath the fan cools my arms, its gentle breeze a soft embrace, as if from one whose voice comes calming and low, as approaching thunder. He and summer celebrate with me this sweet season’s last cheer, the big hoorah, grande finale, swallowtails on butterfly bushes, hummingbirds fragile as my hope pushing bravely against [...]
Breaking the Line by Carmen Eichman
I’ve buoyed to the surface, finally; it’s been a long dip into a deep underworld where paladins turn to dust, return to sandy bottoms, their love stale as rotting seaweed. My daughter knows such princes, their disguises, their tactics how they hook with artifice through our mouths and hearts and pull and pull until we [...]
Ordinary? by Carmen Eichman
I want to surprise myself not pick up crumbs from someone else’s dreams; do not want to perpetually apologize for past mistakes. I want to eat what makes no sense, including bacon and eggs, or chocolate on Sunday mornings. Hear the chimes, from long ago, of Oahu’s porches, the fragrance of Plumeria tree, those fragrant [...]
Last Calls by Carmen Eichman
She turns on the television, the radio, or a CD on good days, to obscure thoughts that hook hard into her memory as days she held onto her father’s belt loops while he set trot lines in the clear Georgia creek, a week later on every hook a fish for supper and neighbor’s freezers. But [...]
Enough by Carmen Eichman
I am learning to cultivate the art of nothing, to be still as a chandelier pendant in its crystal beauty and know I, too, am lovely in the sunlight of being. I cannot keep back the weeds, some good, some not of nuances and negotiations between greed and global leaders, the disparity between wealth and [...]
Free Fall by Carmen Eichman
I step to the edge of this passion where the air is thin and clouds softly swirl about my bare ankles within an ethereal salon of sultry sunlight pure and pristine, its flashes and flares delight long neglected flesh. Looking down into a pool of love and lust and life and everyday, including long moments [...]
-
Cover Girl Stephenie Meyer: An Interview (Part One) with Deb Smouse
-
Live Alone and Like It The Classic Guide for the Single Woman
-
My Plan to Thrive while I Deal with Grief this Holiday Season
-
Life, Love and Lesson Plans by Wynn Godbold
-
Under the Bed by Jody Keisner
Recent Comments