A pink silk rose
A white & blue ceramic elephant teapot
A safety pin a brass thumbtack
An umber sofa you doze there at 2:00 p.m.
A February lemon sun
An white enameled bowl brimming with rose hips
A 50s postcard shaped like California
A crescent moon tattoo
A Union Pacific train emerging from an Oregon tunnel
A glossolalia of dogwoods & laughter
A coonskin cap in a roadside tourist shop
A statue of Nuestra Señora a metal bed frame
A stile stepping into the dry September pasture
A great blue heron
A red tin roof brushed slick with hoarfrost
A train you are never there to meet it
A porch with wooden railing a green May twilight
A mockingbird in a tulip tree
A white cord hammock
You are laughing a fountain it’s incomprehensible
A black magic marker a wooden letter opener
A wooden spatula a red & white teapot
A plate of lemon pasta a pair of irrigation boots
A train you are never there to see it off
A flock of guinea hens cackling in the cottonwood
A C major seven a D minor seven transposed a major third
A divided highway at 3:00 a.m.
A silver flute a lime-green ukulele
An evening in a bookstore without any hope except hope
Where are you in your words
Jack Hayes
© 2010
“In every heart there should be one grief that is like a well in the desert.”
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