Good Old Times

Grabbed some biscuits with butter and jelly,
out the door Saturday morns, so many years ago.
We would play all day and not feel hunger until sunset.
There were no worries except to get home before supper.

We built roadways and bridges out of dirt and sticks,
making a road all the way from Arkansas to Alabama
so we could see Grandma and Grandpa Tuck.
Juicy Fruit gum would be waiting in Grandpa's pocket.

Stage coach was our favorite game, except it was real, of
course. We all took turns being the horses or the driver,
taking our chances with the wild Indians. Sometimes Matt Dillon
came along for protection. Miss Kitty stayed at the saloon.

We lay down in the fields like we were dead so the vultures
would come. None did, but curious crows ventured close enough
to get a hail of dirt clods thrown at them. We weren't to boast,
but we had saved the world from black flying beasts.

We fought dragons in the sky with bows and arrows we made
ourselves. We banished no-gooders to the dungeon and paid
the faithful with rocks of gold. My three brothers and I had
legions of followers.

Young saplings would rocket us into the sky and back to earth.
Climb up, bend it down with your weight, touch ground with your
feet and leap! We traveled through space many times. It�s not
known we discovered space first.

I can�t run now; throw a dirt clod, or leap into space. Guess I
could lie down and wait for the vultures. Sometimes I feel like that.
Just plain tired. But we made pacts -- to be good-doers and save
the world. I will continue to try.

Crow Ghost

The raspy caw-caw in your throat...

When I think about talking to you,
my mouth fills with iced crystals;
shards of glass cut my tongue.

I want your eyes to see me bleed;
"It�s visible you fool!" You walked
away unscathed, except for death.

You wheedle and simper for forgiveness;
when I say no, you suspend me in your
nightmares. The answer will always be "no."

Grandma's Quilt

In circles, in circles she went. Mama.
Wrenching hands, segmented thoughts.
Nothing came together, so she left the room.

I took her place in those circles. To help.
Little feet pattering, rubbing my hands
together like she had done.

In the bedroom I saw her balled up in the
corner, cocooned safely, for a while,
under Grandma�s quilt.

                                                                                                � Morgan Lafay

Loch Raven Review Spring 2006 — Vol. 2, No. 1
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