Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

April Six

In Emergency, I wait for hours
for my neighbor Carmen’s outcome
after her affair with the treadmill.
Later, I sit at the edge of the bed
to hold her hand, and she cries out, while dazed,
for her son, el Nino Jesus, her mamacita,

and sunbeams slant through blinds,
and I reflect. Eighty-six degrees on April six
a gem of a day in subtropics where
I am a mere stray among orchids,
fake talk, fraud, old women
silver hair with flair, and Medicare.

Then Carmen awakens to my relief
in such delicacy of mind’s openings
to faint glints of light sneaking
into the room, for sunshine outside
spirals in ribbons through palms’ fronds
letting all things shimmer in transience.


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Prompt: Sunshine