The Other Woman

I was the other woman once.
Though I can't say I was
      any good at it.
I didn't even know he had another
Until I saw them walking
     hand in hand
In front of the store window
Where I was trying on a
     green wool coat--
The one with the slick silk inside
And a floppy hood
     that covered my eyes.
The funny thing was,
     She looked like me.

First World Afflictions

Insomnia has given way to narcolepsy.

There are no dropped conversations,
or heads pillowed by dinner plates.
We weaned ourselves from food and talk long ago.

Most often the spells happen
behind the wheel--
though our vans know the way
on that rutted track...
from the school to the field,
from the studio to the shop,
A quiet circle of miles with banked left-hand turns.

We are found snoozing in front of the screen
heads limp, hands still,
sorry after-images of another's sun
burned beneath our eyelids.

We run on treadmills,
though our feet slap pavement.
The scenery is relentless:
a family portrait of houses
with identical marigold corsages.

Our beds know us intimately,
curled in fetal positions,
hugging our vitals to ourselves.
There are no dreams--
we can no longer follow the plot.
The rain, sun, wind--
just a soundtrack on an endless loop.
Alarms become white noise,
bedsheets are strait jackets,
our eyes slowly tracking
a spider on the ceiling.

Station Eleven

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It has a vague title.  It has pictures of tents on the front.  It is also a National Book Award Finalist and has been on several "best of" lists.  But it is about an apocalyptic event, and haven't we all read enough of those?  But wait, this one is different-- it is about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and musicians.  Yeah, sorry, that's not really going to help your end-of-the-world mailaise.  But when the kindle version went on sale, I grabbed it because I have read worse for more.  And I loved it.  It's not really about the struggle of survival, or about the establishment of new societies, but about how we appreciate what we have.  Are we doing what we want to do or are we in a holding pattern waiting for someone or something before we live the life we want?  If it were to end tomorrow what would we regret? Or not? What or whom do we take for granted?
The writing was perfect.  The characters came alive.  The pacing was great. Very little swearing or violence. No sex.  Recommend for everyone.


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Violet Orchid

He eats tuna fish

Beside the violet orchid.

Caterpillar yellow stamen slinks down

Butterfly winged petals.

His teeth crush muscle,

Tear apart flesh

Mixed in with borrowed mayonnaise.

Green stalks to hide

His wonton eyes

Behind purple petals.

He devours the plant.

Sneer with false teeth

Stamens extruding from his 

Tongue.

Love Poem

You are the leech
that drains the poison.

You are the snore
that drowns out my alarms.

You are the salt
that draws out my sweetness.

You are the sap
that keeps me water tight.

You are the dirt
that feeds my blooms.

You are the dragon
that makes me his treasure.

The Bees

The Bees by Laline Paull
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a slow burn. Keep reading. It pays off in the end. .I think I was trying to find some allegorical or symbolic meaning. But then I realized it is just about a bee in a hive. Then I almost gave up....why do I care about Flora 717? But she crawled under my skin, and I was crying by the end. The prologue and epilogue are superfluous, and detract from the whole,. Original and well-written.

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Trail of Broken Wings

Trail of Broken Wings by Sejal Badani
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Somehow I have stumbled on to reading books about domestic violence lately. This one by far explores the aftermath of what is like to deal with the after effects of violence by someone you loved. However, I also had the least emotional connection with any of the characters in the book. It is readable, and the bits of Indian culture sprinkled throughout was interesting and made me hungry for some Chai, but all in all, it is forgettable.

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