Tara

What keeps you from the gun, a crescent moon this Easter, a life that makes you run , an arc of scurried waves, billowed by a search to flee, little one’s you’ve saved, what do they know of fun, on their flight to the sea, you survive many tongues, by map or bottle being brave, when you fix a constant need, in a search for freedom, do you consider it done, this love of creed, it’s certainly not forbidden, except blank looks for trade, your insides scream, everything’s waylaid, in this age of apathy.

Sally

If I'm not too dreamy, I'll pray with you, step out each green evening, caress you with my groans, melt orange blue, all your yellow pheromones, with bread and stones, seek out secret venues, pick flowers in the loam, down fallen roads, they’ll say it’s not true, but you won’t let me stumble, lucky our love has grown, despite dull virtue, in times of great fortune, anoint me with your seasons, make me swoon, send me the gift of reason, calm all the rumours.

Rona

The arc of her love, splices sunlit days, shines on her leather gloves, Macy's, the Five and Dime, New York alleyways, she notes the time, gives home a shove, in a moon that says, it’s your choice Bud, black and blue evening light, is when debt gets paid, nowhere’s out of mind, beneath the sod, truth somewhere delays, the unceasing flood, will they know she’s fine, why she never complains, a cold white star sign, measures her gaze

Quieta

The arc of her love, splices sunlit days, shines on her leather gloves, Macy's, the Five and Dime, New York alleyways, she notes the time, gives home a shove, in a moon that says, it’s your choice Bud, black and blue evening light, is when debt gets paid, nowhere’s out of mind, beneath the sod, truth somewhere delays, the uncaring flood, will they know she’s fine, why she prevaricates, a cold white star sign, measures her gaze.

Pearl

Here at this window pane, the light turns green, cars fill up their lanes, each dance is a trip, except slippers on my feet, tunes don’t shake my hips, I call out your name, like a dawn novena, but nothing fits the frame, the fine pavement’s clip, struggles for a beat, no spring tide rips, blonde woodyard grains, stack up like wheat, everything’s too far away, why can’t there be, a coming home freighter, something of the sea to party this evening ?

Oaklynn

Parents fade away, sometimes without grace, don’t sit at my table, mothers without children, see their departing gaze, the waves only visit, Our Lady knows I’m great, no matter how they pray, on cold lit Sundays, my Dad is unfiltered, lost within his ways, his problems consistent, demands loans from my pay, chants without praise, never took us on holiday, a gooey existence troubled, how can we obey, let them take communion, living is my game.

Maggie

At the entrance lights and raises, a candle for drinkers and vagrants, her youngest suffers that way, in Piraeus there's a convent, behind the lip of alleyways, where the cruise ships frequent, she passes through them in a daze, to a tree lined oasis, far from that tourist game, hears maritime hooter’s advent, what do you expect anyway, sun, wine and sea beats sense, encouraged by a daughter’s praise, she knows no one’s to blame, they enjoy what they pay, she smells in momentary instant, the monastery’s sweet gaze, a loving darkness from within, she kneels to ancient names.