A Poetry Showcase from Donna Dallas

photo from unsplash.com (Chirayu Sharma)

The Last judgment

I watched from the sides
tucked under countless souls
every shade of flesh
dimpled and sinewy
bent beauty in these tortured limbs
begging to be forgiven
pushing to the front line
as not to be overlooked
 
My lover and I tight knot
step over torn and broken wings
masses of angels swarm like hornets
and hummingbirds
try to decode dark and light
try to recall what Jesus said
what did he say?
something like thirst
is in the spring of life?
no no - as we are pulled apart in divine separation
 
Jesus said 
To the thirsty I will give 
from the spring of the water of life 
without payment
as I stood on the side 
parched and burning
and watched my lover flutter away
with glowing wings

Summer Carnival

Billy Joel bellows 
through the speakers
sausage and peppers
spilled beer
vomit
the world is back 
as if war and disease never happened
pigeons swoop in 
to feast
while the homeless still beg 
crackheads still lurk
undercut by all the laughter 
the short heavyset man 
kisses his baby girl a bit too much
a gawky teen lurched over a garbage pale
vomits his kabob   
the blonde stringy haired girl 
strung out in the last stall 
gets hauled out
in an ambulance 
after the EMS blasted her nostrils 
with Narcan
 
Still the Ferris wheel keeps moving
within this matrix
Billy Joel still reverberates 
among cackling passers by 
not one stops
nor looks 
a milk white hand dangles over the stretcher 
whirlwinds of people breathing
smiling
living 
as the girl hovers
suspended over her dead self 
aching  

Remember When We Had No Money

We cashed in all our change
for diapers and formula
scoured the car for loose coins
every cent a fiber of survival
every hand me down a gift
nothing purchased
items always given to us
to use with kid gloves
and carefully pass on to the next poor soul
 
Those valleys
we thought we’d never climb out of
with babies on our backs
bills snapping at our Achilles
money dripped in
like an IV
 
We were on pins and needles 
for that IRS check
laughed all the way to the bank
cuz it was pre-spent
 
Those moments of grit 
tested every muscle reflex
certificate awarded to us
for our rogue-ass survival tactic 
called juggling
 
You and I
we were the circus clowns back then
on the brink of a fire so intense
we didn’t realize we would have burned 
the entire lot of us
to smoldering cinders
had we slipped
 
We look back
cuz we on the peak now
laugh greedily
say it was nothing
never that bad
 
We just shimmied
out of that freak show
half nude
half crocked
yet still the clowns

Players

Because right now - at this very moment
		there is some poor sap
inhaling the very dread 
I escaped from

Right now 
that chosen victim’s sadness 
fills every cavity
from loin to breast
		
That pinned heart engulfed in woeful mist
that evaporates 
before
		my
		very
		sad
		eyes 



Bio: Donna Dallas studied creative writing and philosophy at NYU’s Gallatin School and was lucky enough to write under William Packard, founder of the New York Quarterly.  She has appeared in a plethora of journals, most recently The Opiate, Beatnik Cowboy, SpillWords and Phantom Kangaroo.  Donna serves on the editorial team of Red Fez and New York Quarterly.


By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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