An Open Book

I want anything you can say in the moonlight
A line from a poem
From: The Circle Game Collection
She forces life to unfold its meaning
She won't settle for not enough

I stood in line that evening
Still attuned to her reading for
Alias Grace
Ms. Atwood expressed well
Direct, her humour, punchy
Yet, she's retained a softness

Cat's Eye in my hand
Written for me
It speaks of the challenges life throws
The self vulnerable
Open to page 207, sentence underlined
I hardly hear them anymore because I hardly listen
Elaine, the school girl, has walked away from Cordelia
Her character developing and freed
Atwood is telling us
Don't cower to tyrants
Defy

I got close and I see kind eyes

Curiosity in them as she signed her books
Her face itself an open book
She signed page 207
And the cover of
The Circle Collection

In some way, I feel why she writes
 Reflections true
Cat's Eye sits on my shelf
A reminder to never settle for not enough

a personal drama

The sunset ablaze, pinky red

paling to knotted mesh

before it drops

Eighth Floor

Sipping wine, Gen and I exchanged news
Talked of having too little time
The band played

Through the pools of patrons he and I passed each other
And hesitated
There's something about him
A touch of recognition showed in his eyes too
Under the light banter
He touched my hands
It claimed us at the same time
We'd been together, yet isolated...
He was the attractive, brooding one
Not all he knew was good
I'd witnessed his unearthing
And had been transfixed by
The clenching and unclenching of his jaw
His hands fists
Bending his head over them
He'd shed tears
Expressing grief over the end of a relationship
My stomach had turned over each word
Big slices of anger burst open
Emotion poured by pails
I'd tried to understand
Tried not to be on edge
Tried not to judge
His anger
I'd left mine to sleep like a bird
Blanketed in a cage
How dare he make me feel this way?
In broken time
We patched the cracks of disorientation

That night in the bar
Intuitively, we'd been drawn to the other
"Eighth floor...Psych!"
Throwing out our arms, we laughed and hugged
Each of us mended
We wished each other well
And farewell.

The Only Two

During the nineteen fifties
Robert Doisneau took photographs
In Paris
Of lovers
How many times have we seen
His most popular
A couple walking across the street
He leans to kiss her
She surrenders
Click
They're the only two

Doisneau makes it look like
They might not even be there
An ephemeral passing through
You might feel that
The world is moving around them
Or, that they stand still

Fantasy and whimsy is seen
 Over and over
He responds to that "elusive thing"
And moves them into moments
Out of the ordinary
The possibility of something
Clandestine
Or eerie
Or dangerous
Or exquisite

The Street

The sexual predator
Snatches a child
And runs
On reeking streets

The callous robber
Stands over
The cringing, old lady
He wrenches her loose change
And runs
On reeking streets

The home invader
Attacks a family's peaceful nest
Their safety net left a gaping hole
As he runs
On reeking streets

Criminals pound the pages
Of the newspaper
And while dread and unease
Marks ink-stained hands
Security and peace of mind
Dissolves
Violent crime fades in the trash
But ceaselessly beats
On reeking streets

Son's Raining Bullets

Needing a gentle hand
He got the back
Caring and guiding
There was a lack
Growing up
He felt alone
Tears hardened to bullets
His heart
A hidden stone

Words became his tool
To dispense
He bullied the world
Beneath eyes turned cruel

Becoming a man
He could redirect
Recreate
He won't
He carries
Ammunition for hate
To reach him could be
Too late

He may never have peace
And for society and family
Violence...Shame...Heartbreak

author: Paulette Elozia Beaudin Rivait

Frozen Desire

I need his eyes
I need his hands
I need a warm body
His heart
To melt me
Into a hot flood of lust and love

His eyes didn't receive
His hands like ice
Unmoved
His heart only beats

The hammering
Leaves me cold

A Mirror Athlete

A real man?
Please
As if you're not big enough
As if you're not mean enough
Decorating yourself
Vacuous eyes in your mirror
Your brain
A hulk attached to a stem

I need this mass to fight warriors
Hold back the horses
Straddle Aphrodite, Goddess of Passion
She wants these thighs
this hard belly
these bulging biceps
these bruising lips

As if you can win her?
As if you can keep her?
You'd spread your bulk over her
Is that the only way you know?

Divas

Those famous women of wiles

In the spotlight

Showcasing overdeveloped smiles

We envy the ease

Oblivious to the delusions

Behind the plastic face freeze

A showy semblance of living

 Where time does field 

The sagging and decomposing 

Youthful yield

Beyond injected feed

Self-absorbed, they grab the passport

Into the town of greed 

Instinct

Naturally, as foliage weaves
Instinct is woven into us
Not touchable
Not seen
Primeval in its wisdom

Picture a Sentimental Lady

That photo
I looked happy
But the picture
 is not an x-ray of emotions
It merely shows a laughing face
sharing moments with her children
Under a pinkish, bluish sunny sky
The dark rose coloured glasses
 A shield

A picture doesn't lie?
It hid the weight
Of a malevolent marriage
Nearing its frightening end

Years later
I stared at it
Mentally peeling the photos layers
Remembering the woman
Who'd learned to conceal
The truth of emotions
She did feel

COLD ROOMS

The table separates us
Unsympathetic raging
Pushes around me
And comes within reach
I move away
Again and again

Finally, you take it with you
Down the dark hall

I watch you walk the barrenness of
Ashen carpet
Stark and cold
Stained with bad blood
I don't want to know where you go
Because you don't care
Where I am

What should have been
Walls of love
Are enclosures suffocating me