We swallow grapes
of summer rain, look straight
at round confreres of suns,
play hockey with snow
on winter ice, until its plate
snaps both ankles different times.
Until we sidle up to death & it to us.
Watches shrink too small to see.
A midnight stroll means limp to bed.
From then on out, we grab
like children chasing barren ground
with one green bean still on the vine.
Force sleep with liquor.
Turn the music on full blast.
Shove extra cash inside old socks
for rainy days—it’s pouring now.
Eat a cheesecake in a sitting.
Eat tomatoes laced in salt.
Wait for nothing—
even love—to come to us.
“Purple Grapes” image by Flickr user Donnie Nunley
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Janet Buck is a seven-time Pushcart Nominee and the author of four full-length collections of poetry. More than 4,000 poems & pieces of prose are in print and on the internet. Janet’s recent work has appeared in The Birmingham Arts Journal, Antiphon, Offcourse, PoetryBay, Vine Leaves, Poetrysuperhighway, Misfit Magazine, Lavender Wolves, and River Babble. Her latest print collection of verse, Dirty Laundry, is currently available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble & other outlets. Visit the ordering link at her new web page: www.janetibuck.com. Buck’s first novel, Samantha Stone will be released by Vine Leaves Press in September, 2016.
