The Wedding

Azure blue sky outlines palm fronds
As they sway high above martinis
By the side of a crystal clear pool
Occupied by blow-up floats

A maid scurries to and fro
Bringing baskets of white roses
And Baby’s Breath to carry
Down a makeshift aisle

Folded chairs await the curious
Who are lucky to hold a ticket
To observe life’s challenges
On this day of reconciliation

A woman in pink pins a corsage
To a gray suit who stands in silence
Reliving a past of lost memories
And forgotten times from his youth

Spirits and champagne remain
Uncorked until the precise moment
When a union is celebrated
And the new pair adorned

Two by two, sometimes three,
The hats arrive, clucking as they go
Finding fault with the tartness
Of the Fish House Punch

A string quartet sounds a chord
Of harmony to break
The silence of a dull afternoon
That consumes onlookers

Girls in purple gauze and ribbons
Giggle at one another as they await
A march that seems unspoken
To all but a few

The planners huddle under parasols
Or large branches painting shade
Upon steamy sidewalks and tiles
That guide guests to their seats

Beads of fear dot the temples
Of the man about to be wed
His awkward jacket wrinkled
From age and history untold

A friend by his side whispers
Encouraging words as patrons watch
His future about to begin
In a borrowed black suit

The choreography of the dance
Is enough to bring tears to all
Who dare to witness this day
Of hummingbirds and vows

A veil of white appears
Surrounding a belly filled with life
Beyond reach of happiness
And a pair of satin shoes.

–Victoria Emmons, © 2014

Belly Button Scar

Remains of what used to be
Born into her inner sea
Fight and claw to get out

Somewhere deep inside
She no longer wants to hide
Her belly button scar

–Victoria Emmons, 2012

I do.

Do you fear
that life will
pass you by?

I do.

Do you dance
beneath stars
up in the sky?

I do.

Do you kick
up your heels
so very high?

I do.

Do you love
as though there
is no morrow?

I do.

Do you give
and give again
until no more?

I do.

Do you dream
and wish
upon a star?

I do.

Do you wait
for someone true
to steal your heart?

I do.

Damp, Not Dry

First the face and neck
Then dry left shoulder to wrist
Right arm the length of which
Reaches into the air
Chest, breasts, over and under
Down the core
Then up to dripping hair

A tussle with terry cloth
Leaves hair damp, not dry
One corner in left hand
One in the right
The back and forth motion
Travels the nape of the neck
Clear to the curve of hips

Take a break from
This well worn ritual
To cleanse the mind
If only for a moment
To breathe in the day
Eradicate what ails
Right the world’s wrongs

Erase remaining droplets
From left leg and foot
Notice a razor is required
Then right leg down to toes
Rehang the towel
Time for talk radio
And a fresh, new morning

–Victoria Emmons ©2013

The Sting

of the palm
as it reaches
the cheek,
the innocent
cheek, all
glowing and pink.

The pain
of the sting
as it crosses
the lips,
the sensuous
lips, so
worthy and free.

The wrath
of the world
as it crushes
the head,
the pulsating
head, once
brilliant, now dead.

The sound
of the crowd
as it mimics
the man,
the jabbering
man, once
noble and proud.

The hush
of the wind
as it drifts through
the hair,
the beautiful
hair, all
silky and clean.

The joy
of the girl
as she opens
the lock,
the garden
unlocked, now
sodden and flush.

The birth
of the bud
as it carries
the sting,
the heart-wrenching
sting, all
hidden and fine.

The cry
of the babe
as he wants her
to stay,
the boy not
at play, so
tearful and pained.

The sting
of the palm
as it reaches
the cheek,
the hardening
cheek, all
knowing and deep.

The pain
of the sting
as it crosses
the heart,
the withering
heart, no
longer a part.

— Victoria Emmons ©2013

Same. Same. Same.

Polka dot dresses
Pink bows
In our hair
My baby
And me
What shall we wear?

Same. Same. Same, Mommy
We are the same.

Frilly blue gowns
Frizzy red hair
My little girl
And me
What shall we wear?

Same. Same. Same, Mommy
We are the same.

Black mascara
Bandanas to share
My young lass
And me
What shall we wear?

Same. Same. Same, Mommy
We are the same.

Long, white veil
Everyone stares
Pretty bride
And me
What shall we wear?

Same. Same. Same, Mommy
We are the same.

Wrinkly, brown skin
Curly, black hair
Your baby
And you
What shall you wear?

Same. Same. Same, Mommy
We are the same.

— Victoria Emmons ©2013

The Voiceless Piano

Life as a tune
Daily melodies play
To heart’s desire
Upon the keyboard

Up and down
Like the scales
One moment a burst
Of love and joy

Chirping highs
And tinkling sounds
That cheer the world
And make merry

Only to fall thus to
The lowest notes
Deep and dark
The sharps and flats

Alas, in the end
The cover is locked
No song to sing at
The voiceless piano

–Victoria Emmons ©2014