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Introducing
Mindy Watson

 

 

 

Lucidities: Two Ovillejos

 

I.         

Across our eyes, dark scarves they bind,

And blind,

We’re spun about. Our twirls incite

Delight

As peers with stick-pins seek the mark

In dark.

Though muddling spurs attachment’s spark,

I’d tear away this veil and see

Before I’d stumble willingly

And blind, delight in dark.

 

II.        

Within your cage, you envy me –

I’m free

While stalwart bars imprison you.

Break through,

They taunt. You’re trodden ‘neath their heel,

This steel

Forged fast from past’s self-hate. Appeal

To writer’s joys; they sprang me first

With probing prose and rhyming verse.

I’m free- break through this steel.

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

A Queen of Infinite Space (a rondel)

 

With open eyes and upheld head,

She spies you sleeping, bids you shed

Your childish fitfulness. In bed,

Illusionary frights imbed

 

Their thorns in girlhood’s crown o’erhead,                            

Until you ricochet from bed

With open eyes and upheld head.

She spies you sleeping, bids you shed

 

Maternal strain from which you’d fled.

Your waking’s gone, yet so’s your dread,                             

And in its place, her flaxen head

Against your cheek. Pure peace she’s bred

With open eyes and upheld head.

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

Shifted Spaces (a kyrielle)

 

1997

Confined within her one-room flat,                                                    

She bids men breach her habitat                                          

To oust the dreams that plague each night.   .                                              

She pleads, have mercy on my plight!                                                                      

 

This wan, assistant retail boss                                                                       

Swigs scotch to ease her albatross.              

Awaiting homebound bus’s light                                                        

She pleads, have mercy on my plight!                                                                      

 

Last fall, she’d birthed a baby boy                                                                             

Born brainless - shorn of thought or joy.                                                                               

Bewailing sparks that can’t ignite,                                                                 

She pleads, have mercy on my plight!

                       

2017

Now rooted in her five-room house,                                                              

With rat-race tasks and lists she flouts                                                                     

The fears she’ll fail to stay upright.                                                    

She pleads, have mercy on my plight!                                                                      

 

This bustling writer gains repute:                                                                              

An office job, a long commute.                                                                      

When traffic yields just crimson light,                                                            

She pleads, have mercy on my plight!                                                                                  

 

She’s birthed two boys, one headstrong girl –                                                                      

Their perspicacious minds unfurl –                                                             

Combust with such unruly might                                                                   

She pleads, have mercy on my plight!          

 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

Emergent’s Roots (an acrostic sonnet)

 

Emergent trees who’ve breached their tier arise,

Mere stems in woods’ bouquet no more. They gloat,

Exult in anonymity’s demise,

Renounce the verdant canopy they’ve smote.

Geography’s constraints now loosed, they bid

Enflaming Sun accelerate their schemes –

Negate their past obscurity. But did

They know, unsullied by vainglorious dreams,

Sedate shrub saplings (swathed in dark) exude

Resolve beneath the forest canopy?

Obliged to dusk, the Understory’s brood

Objects to naught. Instead, in woodland’s lee,

Tenacious roots consent to burrow down

So buttressed, spire-like trees can gain renown. 

 

 

 

a line, (a blue one)

 

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