loneliness

Freeze Frame

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Stuck in the age of Covid-19, racing to nowhere except a way out of this box to which the world has been condemned, a prison cell of prevention, or not, for those unlucky thousands who carry coronavirus with them to their graves, leaving the rest of us to worry about droplets lingering for days on Amazon delivery boxes, empty grocery store shelves, dirty gas pump handles, or our own Fido’s nose, even a child’s hand fresh from a playground jungle gym when the real jungle is Mother Earth spinning in all her infected glory, laughing as she twirls leaving that voice message that cries, “I told you so.”

—Victoria Emmons, copyright 2020

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Dawn foretells reason and points life
into the unknown. Fantasy is easy in
the darkness when the exuberance of
friends who may not be friends
overtakes my soul, rides along a rail of desire,
hope and pleasure if only for a moment.
Hide the truth from no one but myself since hiding
offers temporary relief. How do I live with constant
grief and still live to see the new morning?
Stay silent in my loneliness so that
peace surrounds me and everyone is calm.

 –Victoria Emmons, Copyright 2015

Happy Hour

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The bowl is empty
No longer filled
Four kinds of chips
Nothing but crumbs

Guacamole with spice
A hint of adventure
Is now all consumed
Along with the laughter

Guitar music plays
Yet no real strings
Save for the bus boy
Who changes CDs

People chatter at the bar
Occupy the soft leather
That coaxes them in
at Happy Hour prices

A man with a smart phone
Awaits a pretty girl
To occupy his time
With sweet perfume

The music plays on
Pretends to be Spain
Portugal or France
Some other place

Ceviche arrives
As a trainee
Sets down a plate
On the covered table

A concierge eyes
The tiny shrimp
To assure they show
Their finest face

The bar is occupied
Lonely souls looking
For conversation and
A hint of worthiness

–Victoria Emmons © 2014

Scream

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A tiny scream
Inside my head
Awakens me
From my bed

What thought say I
To none but me
What woes are there
Or dreams to be

What lies within
My gentle skin
What thoughts persist
When light begins

And thus is born
A year of pain
Of restless nights
Am I insane

–Victoria Emmons, © 2012