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My next poem Will have the scent of gardenias which have just bloomed But not the scent of gardenias that have turned yellow because then they No, that’s not it My next poem will sound like children laughing Some children, not a lot of children, a lot of children laughing would be Okay, wait My next poem will look like people dancing Women in black beaded dresses doing the Charleston An entire town Turned out in their good boots Line-dancing together in a barn that smells of hay Or maybe it will be A tango, the rose’s stem between the teeth Grace and brutality, passion and betrayal . . . or Maybe my next poem Will hurt to write And badly fail to negotiate the curves My next poem Might taste like lemon meringue pie Or feel like a stranger doing a nice thing for no reason Maybe the poem Will be free from all judgment, however It could fail miserably, or it could be beloved My next poem Will be an open door And I will run through it, into the dark, smiling |
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DONNA BEUMLER Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, Donna is a graduate of UC Berkeley and McGeorge School of Law. She spent many years living and working in southeastern Arizona, in a community which borders the Republic of Mexico, before moving to the island of Hawai'i. Donna is the author of the legal thriller Criminal/Lawyer. |
