Sunday Poets is back

Honesdale, Joy - 2Hi everyone,

I’m grateful to Joy Acey for providing us not one but three poems today. Joy, thank you for pitching in. I enjoyed reading your work and am happy to share it with others! And as for you — others — please don’t forget that I always hope to receive some poems to share on Sunday Poets. Now, here’s Joy.

By Joy Acey

At the airline departure gate
stands a couple in desert camo.

His arms wrap across her back.
Her arms drape his neck
pulling his head forward in an embrace.

Then, it becomes obvious;
she is weeping.
He pats her back,
strokes it like a puppy.

She breaks the embrace, takes
one step back. He moves his arm
to her shoulder.

She takes a tissue from her chest pocket
tries to smile as she dabs her eyes
sniffles and wipes her nose.

He whispers in her ear.
The address system announces– last

He helps put on her backpack.
She looks up to him one last time,
delivers a quick peck
to his lips, steps back, salutes
with military precision.

Before she can pivot,
he quickly breaks his return salute,
reaches forward, catches her hand
and pulls her toward his lips
for one last deep kiss.

* * *

By Joy Acey
(This one won Third Place in the Long Free Verse category for the AZ State Poetry Society.)

You could tell it was a good day,
when after school
you’d walk thru the door
and the smell of white navy beans
cooking with bacon
would rush to welcome you home.

This is the day,
When the amber bottles
would stay hidden away
between blue bath towels in the linen closet.

And the car hadn’t left the drive
to park at La Cantina
to swap lies
with drinking buddies.

And soon the smell of golden corn bread
would come, and I would set
the formica topped, aluminum legged table
with bowls and honey and paper napkins
for a festive touch.

And my dad and mom
and my sister and I
would all sit for supper
on chairs with frayed plastic cushions.
And my daddy would proudly say,
“I wonder what the poor people are eating today?”

* * *

By Joy Acey

For about an hour today
before dusk, as the sun sets
I watch a lizard
climb rocks in my yard.

He, the size of my pinkie
jumps from rock to rock.
Now, he does push ups,
raises his belly,
his throat pumps like a bellows.

He turns his head,
lifts his tail
as if scenting the air.

He swings his tail
over the edge of the rock
like a yoyo string,
catching and releasing
the rough surface.

I watch him
lick small black ants
skimming the rock.
His jaws move up and down.

Just as the cicadas
start their next round
of buzzing
he throws himself
flat onto the sandstone
and pretends to be
an ancient fossil.

When the buzzing stops,
he picks himself up
leaps to the next rock,
and the next,
and then out of sight.

Perhaps you think
I’ve wasted
a good evening hour,
but I ask you,
how do you plan to spend
your twilight hour?

* * *