Susan Shea
Pulsations
It was the you me you me time
after the divorce, when you
clung to me like a koala baby
living in our down-sized home
now an apartment, too small
for our stuff but just right for
our expanding gratitude
we were hearing ourselves
laugh out loud like newborns
when a booming sound shook
the floor beneath us again
and again, we adjusted
to the unexpected
finally realizing it had a beat
like a drum we'd never heard
glad to find out that the
downstairs neighbor was just
practicing to perform with the
Pipes and Drums Band for
the NYC St. Patrick's Day Parade
a fitting call out as we looked
over our four-leafed clovers
waiting in our new days
Buyer Beware
As I walk through
the lake-size barn
of antiques, the dealers
look up at me
like beady-eyed fish from
under the thin ice I walk on
hoping one of their items
will make me want to
bring back, or be with
a loved one
from the other side, but
maybe I will just find
the bright
green deck prism
I have been seeking
so I can catch light
stretch out its life
anywhere
I hope to go
Fancy
I stood waiting for you
on the other side
of your many-layered
beveled glass door
looking through angles
carrying rainbows in
different directions
looking inside I saw
a funhouse gathering of
living room distortions
odd bits, moved sideways
in half, into shards
through this mad world door
your lovely decor seemed
to be acting
strange and confused
until you opened your portal
wearing your tiny mauve smile
that was just the right size to
fit into one of these slanted
figments of your invitation
Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who was raised in New York City, and is now living in a forest in Pennsylvania. Since she has returned to writing poetry last year, her poems have been accepted by: Across the Margin, Feminine Collective, The Avalon Literary Review, Persimmon Tree Literary Magazine, Ekstasis, Triggerfish Critical Review, Amethyst Review, Poemeleon Poetry and others.
