Burn

Hot desert winds blow

Wildfires burn

Out of control

Birds fly going nowhere

Feathers blown smooth

Rendered useless

Forward motion denied

By swirling dust bowl heat 

Blue jean clad legs bake

Cloth clinging to seared skin

As scorched limbs search for respite shade

On a cracked yellow patio

Heaving with parched nausea 

While gritty eyes squint 

Seeking a purple blue vision 

Of clawing hissing greenery 

Enslaving twigs scratching at windows

Demanding entrance 

Etching sacrilegious patterns on the panes

And the hound sniffs the air

Confused by flustered smokey scents

Body chucking their way into her

Hot dry snout

But the brown mud hole yard remains calm

Skulking under the radar

Barely kissed by movement

Last day of April 

Waiting for May

©kcasady2014

Dear Children

Dear children

Your job is to keep me young

Please do everything possible to make it so

Keep snapchatting pictures of your new nail color and turning me on to new fandoms

Keep sharing 90s indie rock and facetiming with me

Above all

Keep humoring me

Even if I am forty years older than you

I like feeling cool even though I probably am not

It’s nice to appear hip to other moms

Who don’t have a clue about instagram

Or to become the Iphone maven to old flip phone users

I rather like it when my fellow 20-something tutors

Say I never to cease to amaze them when I share that

I’m done with neon pink hair extensions

So passé

So even when I am a really old lady

Grey and decrepit

To the degree that I am able

Please make sure to keep me young

Whatever that may look like

I don’t have a clue

I am not there yet but I will be

Inevitability steps in

Like it or not

And if my memory fails me

Please tell the world that you know I remain young in my heart and soul

And when I am gone

Please tell everyone how I stayed young because of you

©kcasady2014

Rumble

A rumble

Distant

Dropping from the sky

Echoing from its dark vault

Vague and pulsating

So subtle 

The hound barely heard it

But her ears pricked up

She craned her long neck

Trying to sense its source

A deep throated growl

Rolling out against the clouds

Kids count one one thousand

Two one thousand

Between the lightening and the thunder 

Laughing through dreadful storms

Making light of drenching rain

While imagining pending doom

Of a squadron of ancient propeller airplanes

Droning through thick choking air 

Bombardiers tightening grips

Squinting through their sights 

Releasing deadly hail upon their enemies

A welcome sight to cadaverous prisoners of war

Straining to see through dark swollen eyelids 

Allowing themselves a momentary sigh of relief

As the ground shakes beneath their cages

From the bowels of the earth 

As tectonic plates shift

Punching each other

Who will win this battle of magma and slag

Cloaking continents in a fresh crust

As buildings crumble upon shrieking bodies 

And the rumble

From somewhere 

Drifts back to nowhere 

And the hound goes back to sleep

©kcasady2014

Truth

Lies belay the truth

Replaces it with myth

That ripens into folklore

Truth adheres to nothing 

Heedlessly retreating 

Breaking into the tiniest of molecules

Floating noiselessly

Drifting further apart

Until time casts it out

And the universe replaces it with nothing

©kcasady2014

Money Speaks

Someone said her mother never wanted to get pregnant

Fear kept her from that state

The dread of child birth

The discomfort of carrying a baby

Or was it mental imbalance

As her father said

The early shock treatments she endured

Hoping to put her mind back together

Both perhaps

The imbalance causing an unfounded dread

Public agencies declaring her too irrational for approval

Resorting then to the secret world of private adoptions

Where no guidelines existed for proving worthiness

And only money spoke

©kcasady2014

Inamoratas

Dear sir

Really you must be stopped

Before you've run out of parts to play

The ones you like

Where you can be quirky

Showcase your physicality

Where intellect conspires with charm

And you use your enticing grin to fool and befuddle

Where the myth of you leaves your singular audience exhausted 

And your manfulness folds up and goes home

Really sir

You must be stopped

You leave behind a deep swath piled with unfinished inamoratas

©kcasady2014

Dark Corners

Please don’t channel your mother

She’s not wanted here

At her sister’s funeral

We didn’t like her

Dead or alive

Please don’t channel your mother

Her spirit taints all it touches

Brings us down

Clouds our eulogies

Shows us where we come up short

Please don’t channel your mother

She speaks truth

Says things we don’t want to hear

Her presence sheds light into our dark corners

Please don’t channel your mother

Don’t let her out

Tell her to stay quiet

We do not wish to abandon our lies

©kcasady2014

Hear Ye

Even I am relieved that the ordeal is over

That she finally died

The process so magnified that it spilled over everywhere

Young great grandchildren sang songs to her

Picnicking at her bedside

Adult grandchildren held vigil

Snuggling close

Freeing the even older adult children for a breather

All eulogized

Hear ye

Hear ye

We did all these things for her

Hear ye

Hear ye

She spent her last two weeks in a morphine induced coma

Freed from cancer pain

Perhaps freed from loving attention

My mother died in an ambulance with the attendant praying for her

She didn’t die alone

Jews are not supposed to die alone

My cousin said her newly dead mother had the best life of all her sisters

You might be right I say back

Your mother had all the trimmings

Adoring grandchildren and great grandchildren

A full life of estimable acts

My mother

A brilliant independent soul

Is buried alone 

Not near her husband or her parents

But serenely surrounded by other dead Jews

So she can kibitz without strings attached

Perfect I say to my cousin

Just perfect

©kcasady2014

White Hair

The departed spends her first night in her grave 

Tucked in by relatives and friends

Each tossing three shovelfuls of dirt upon her coffin

A gesture of pure kindness

One for which there can be no repayment 

While the white hairs stood and watched 

Too old to lift even the tiniest bits of soil

Imagining their dead compatriot listening from within her eternal cocoon 

Watching for her hovering soul

Waiting for it to fly free

All the while counting the moments till their turn

Wondering by whose hands their graves will be filled

©kcasady2024

Handout

The King of Persia arrives on time

The Queen of Sheba fashionably late

He saves the table in the shade

Her complexion susceptible to sun

The King wears beige Armani suits

The Queen prefers blue jeans and silver jewelry

He wishes she would be a bit less casual

She feels regal in anything she wears

They drink coffee

Preparing to receive their subjects

The King nods

The Queen sometimes speaks

The poor crazies know of his generosity

They approach for a handout

The Queen looks to the side

Disdain on her face

The King gives the expected doles

Waving the minions away with a flourish

Every day the Queen heaves a sigh of relief

Hands the newspaper to the King

Both sip their coffee

Occasionally looking up to survey their realm

©kcasady2014

Dung Beetle

Dear sir

Please tell me why you need a therapist

Perhaps too much

Too soon

There are the

Nuclear perks

Splendid

Sumptuous

Plentiful

Unforeseen and lovely

But alongside the

Inconvenient annoyances

Unwanted attention

Microscopic examination

Brooding over the impossible desire to accommodate

And the difficult decisions ahead

Stay or go

Fly to greater heights

Soar to extraordinary

Shedding veracity

Or remain unexpected

By means of unpredictable honesty

And idiosyncratic quirkiness

Hovering just above unusual

Well sir

God speed

May your journey be mindful

And your process abundant

Dotted with awkward rewards and startling revelations

May you dig like a dung beetle

Past your quivering exoskeleton

Laying fertile eggs in palpable tissue

Finally encircling truth

©kcasady2014

Black and Yellow

Dull day

Couch day

Headache day

Too much birthday day

Black day

Yellow day

Nauseating day

Needed a big rest day

Long day

Nap day

Surreal dream day

Eyes closed all day day

Looking at nothing day

Blank mind day

Glad of the quiet day

Sorry it is now night day

©kcasady2014

Happy Birthday

Happy birthday to me

My natal birthday

On this day

April 18

One of my mothers gave birth to me

One week later

My other mother picked me up

My birthday history begins there

A long time ago

This morning

I wanted to cry

Because

No birthday cake

It’s Passover

Friday breakfast buddies out of town

Bad timing

And I’ve gotten too old to sleep with gorgeous young men

Darn 

So I took myself out for a birthday walk with my hound

Had a pleasant birthday shower

Went to a birthday meeting of like-minded spiritual people

Enjoyed a birthday soy latte complements of Starbucks

My friend Nik presented me with birthday flowers

And the list goes on

No need to cry

The day given to me

Worked

Birthday dinner and theater

Alas still no birthday cake

But birthday Caesar salad

Birthday chicken piccata

Affogado for my birthday dessert

Book of Mormon for birthday entertainment 

Usually

I get to see my birthday

Once a day

At 4:18

If I remember to look

Today

My phone said

April 18

For twenty four hours

Nice

©kcasady2014

Null and Void

Perhaps I'm inured to it

Seasoned

A little bit too familiar

The old ones keep dying

Been through it before

Sadly

Knowing what to expect

The comments about long life

The brave remarks about the death

The requisite love and adoration

The war stories of caring for the old and frail

But past the cynicism 

Underneath 

Not too far below the surface

Exists a sense of wistfulness

Of longing to go back

To when the old ones were in their prime

When they buffered us 

The next generation

When their homespun faces dotted holiday dinners

The young ones assured of no change

Certain of continuity and always

Only a single old one still lives

For her

At 97 continuity disconnects and always becomes never

Time scampers quickly

Exhibiting an agility no one can stop

We younger ones step up

Reluctantly dotting funeral tables

with our taut faces

As we shield the next ones

Taking our turn

Walking involuntarily toward null and void

©kcasady2014

With An Out Stretched Arm

Sitting at the family Seder

I look around

Liking the people

Some my cousins

Some folks I've never seen before 

Sharing the paschal lamb

As we are bid in the bible

Telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt 

I am obliged to drink four cups of wine

A ritual I'll gladly follow

Perhaps adding in a couple more

Then as the People of the Book

With our reputation on the line

We begin discussing

Flexing our intellects

Flying free from the rigors of observance

We speak of this and that

Mostly Jewish topics 

Allegedly relevant to Passover

The holocaust

And where was the God who

Brought us forth from Egypt

Rained plagues upon our oppressors

Parted the Red Sea and drowned Pharaoh's legions

But even still

The Six Million died at the hands of the Nazis

The wise Seder pundits offer no answer

And I think we should be praying

Practicing our rituals

Upholding our traditions 

Following the Haggadah

Our road map

The book that 

Prescribes the order of the Seder

Prompts us when to break the matzah

Open the door for Elijah

Eat sweet charoset mixed with bitter herbs

And when to drink the wine

Because my old aunt died today

My mother's sister

She nearly made 95

My bitter herbs came early 

Already dipped in salt water

I do not need to debate

Hate

Anti semitism

Zionism

Palestine

I do need prayer

Friendly conversation

A holiday meal

A bit of ritual structure

And the third and fourth glass of wine

Now

©kcasady2014

Veteran

Today he was gone

The room was empty

Devoid of the young veteran

Sitting at the table

Lap top humming

Working

On something

Perhaps a paper

A resume

Earnest in demeanor

Serious

Accomplishing his task

But today he was gone

That quite handsome

Busy young man

Very young

Too young

A veteran

Of what

Iraq

Afghanistan 

Comrades dead

IEDs

Snipers

Friendly fire

But today he was gone

Hopefully not dead

Yet

Perhaps called up again

Another tour

A trip to exotica abroad

Maybe this time safely to Germany or Japan

Or probably he just finished his paper

©kcasady2014

Choose

Babe or bitch

Which will it be

Pick one or the other

Choose 

Bitch

Strong willed

Loud mouth

Truth sayer

Babe

Cute

Flirty

Curvy

Okay

Say it...

Sexy

If you called me a babe

I’d fall out of my chair

Oh I might be a bit cute and flirty

Maybe even curvy and sexy

But I'd know you lied

A babe I am not

Don’t flatter me

Don’t bullshit me

Just tell me what you want

Then if you called me a bitch

Well I just might take it as a compliment

©kcasady2014

Persona

Resilience

This dying aunt

This last connection to her mother

Bound up together 

Tied by a complicated twisted chord

This dying aunt whom everyone loved

Her grandchildren

Her great grandchildren

Perhaps even her children

This dying aunt who most unlovingly loved her

Upon whom her mother heaped human tribute

Stripping the golden soul of her daughter

And burning it to appease her baby sister

This dying aunt cloaked in feigned martyrdom

For always doing the right thing

Smugly watched the sacrifice 

Convincing her latent admirers that the sky was red

But the sky fought back hard

With its drenching blue eyes

Though sometimes

Thunderous deep grey green 

Crying out its painful yellow tears 

Breathing blue again

This dying aunt

Old

Wrinkled 

Frail

Now unaware

But perhaps dreaming of

A red sky infused with blue

©kcasady2014

Tearing Up

Old tales of dead friends

She smashed into an icy killer tree, bled out

So no invitation to her grown up embryo’s wedding

Life, it keeps going

New tales of pancreatic cancer and 

Soon to be dead friends

A shared brita water purifier

The daily death watch reminder 

Current tales of anger

A screaming phone call

Drenched in unresolved fury

At his nearly dead mother

Some days the tears just drip

The silt backs up

Oozes out

Down grey cheeks

Leaving invisible salty trails

Nose runs

Eyes get gooey

And for what

©kcasady2014