My mother's chance

My mother's chance
by Joseph

My mother was always waiting
for her chance to take
the stage
But she played the role
of an understudy
in her life...

Back-up to her husband
her child, her career
Always in the background
her time was never
right...

Until she died and all eyes
were upon her
The speakers, the music,
the family...

It was a glorious production
All flowers to the leading
lady
Never to re-appear.

Touch-Me-Nots

Touch-Me-Nots by Jill Bialosky

She brought a little of the country into the city

in the pots of impatiens she had planted

The petals white, pure, the opposite of color.

She had transferred the impatiens from the garden,

digging her hands into soil two parts fibrous loam,

one part leaf mold and peat moss and pushing

the roots into the earth. Despite the quality

of the soil - its rich decomposition of life -

still they would not last. The plants were hard

and tender, with thick stems and dark green leaves,

the seedpods inside waiting to release, the air

awash in pollen. She looked into the flower

as into a pair of beckoning eyes offering

sustenance independent of a body, free floating

and regenerative and wholly belonging

to what was impossible ever to touch.

Note: Jill Bialosky is the author of Intruder, a volume of poetry "which stretches our understanding of the creative process." She will be participating in the Los Angeles Times Book Festival on April 25, 2009.

Photo: flickr (tile432)