the fridge -
that gallery of contingencies, prey
to forgetfulness, deceptive promises,
remains of good intentions.

what excellent truth

Terri

-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On Behalf Of
Marilyn Injeyan
Sent: 06 October 2002 18:10
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Solitaire


     Solitaire

Ashen air from Isabella fires lingers
at our home in the high desert.
Beneath patio cover facing the road,
a shadow crosses your brow.
Eyes melancholy, you fill half
the attached nylon chairs, lukewarm
beer in one slot, cigar pressed between
thumb and forefinger.  The dog
at your feet sniffs darkness, listens
to conversation with me on the phone
and a coyote's soliloquy.

Chicken Marsala and angel hair cool
on the stove.  Limp romaine, tomatoes
will be tossed to rabbits, chipmunks, jays.
If I were there, fewer leftovers would
be packed away in the fridge -
that gallery of contingencies, prey
to forgetfulness, deceptive promises,
remains of good intentions.

Though you were thrilled with the mail
order ten-boxed set of Mozart weeks ago,
it is still shrink-wrapped.  Upstairs bed
not slept in since I sojourned,
anticipates guests or my return.
Silence permeates the ark.

In sour smoke's pungency,
you regard night that catapults
decrees of separation, broken limbs,
remember red-tailed hawks' revelry,
blanketed seeds under soot
and scorched earth that wait.

                                    Marilyn Injeyan
                              October 5, 2002