Into the Whole
During moonlight pond toughens
against freezing temperatures
until morning sun caresses softness
from surface, and ducks paddle
paths across slush
like jet streaks spanning blue sky
until each dissipates into whole.
~
Passenger
Grasshopper clings
to my car’s hood
as I drive home for lunch
bouncing over pothole jolts
and speeding wind over
aerodynamic curves.
Grasshopper waits
until I return, rides
my car’s hood back.
I drive like an after-surgery patient
sits in passenger seat
thankful to see home
under tree in parking lot.
Grasshopper disappears
by end of day;
I drive with my eyes
on the road ahead.
~
INSIDE SAFE
Her legs are arm thick;
talk about skinny jeans!!
But her gait implies accident,
stroke, unnatural event
as she gangles
between crosswalk lines
clutching her husband’s arm
until she turns into the tattoo shop.
Inside voices greet her
while her cadaverous face smiles,
and she is safe from outside.
~
Statue Dreams
Statue dreams of crushing pigeon
that poops in its hand — red blood
commingling with white shit
like flooded river flowing into
crystalline mountain snow melt
that freezes nightly, thaws daily
spreading bronze elbow crack
until wind strengthens statue beneath,
and it bends its arm, fist clenched
in bird-scream shriek of metal
startling flocks skyward
afraid of similar fate.
Statue roars hollow laugh
as bronze shards tumble inside
like bird bones splintering
between fingers.
~
Diane Webster’s goal is to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life, nature or an overheard phrase and to write. Diane enjoys the challenge of transforming images into words to fit her poems. Her work has appeared in North Dakota Quarterly, Old Red Kimono, Home Planet News Online and other literary magazines.