God gives a select few a perpetual valentine to wear front and center at the end of a nose. No matter its color, her heart-shaped, facial ornament expresses her love for life and her human. It’s good to be loved.
Wearing a Valentine
pets
Freeze Frame
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
Circus Dog
Jump, bark, challenge
My authority
As you enter my life and
Try to take over
Just a dog from the
Animal shelter
With no place to call home
Much like me
No place to call home
Drifting everywhere
No roots to plant
Or debts to repay
Only the circus
Accepts us
who are different, strange
And demand rights
Yet there you stood
Begging for adoption
When everything was against us
Twilight seemed dim
You worked out okay
Me, too, since night was day
And you wanted to rule
But you learned
So why not stay
Circus Dog
Stay until dawn and play
With the befuddled cat
I did not know you
Would appear so sweet
Cocking your head to one side
To draw me in, to love you
And that I did, so you won
The game we play
Each night as you demand
I throw your toy for a fake pursuit
–Victoria Emmons, copyright 2017
Morning of a Different Kind
Wet nose nudges me
In the morning
Tells me a new day
Is about to launch
I groan for it is early
My brain not awake
My body too heavy
To face tomorrow
Dawn will not allow me
To linger too long in
The comfort of my pillow
Warmth of my covers
Outside of the bedding
Lies grief and pain
Too much sorrow
An empty world
I hide in my blanket
A castle of safety
Far away from
Impending storms
Wet nose a memory
A mere dream
Of what was
Will be no more
So on this day
This new year
Mourning
Of a different kind
In memory of Allie, 2001-2014
–Victoria Emmons, © 2014
Suburbia
What do you do in Suburbia
when the sky
turns rain time blue
at 2 in the afternoon
and the wind
blows the moss
horizontal for the first
time in months
and the trees
rub against
each other’s boughs
heralding a storm
and the hard, wet
sounds of rain
hit the asphalt
on your street
What do you do in Suburbia
when you wish
you had an Andrew Wyeth field
to run in, but
all you can see is
a concrete gutter
and 14 neat rectangles
of prescribed lots
when you strain to
hear the thunder
but your neighbor’s
mower drowns you out
and you look to see
sky and Earth touch, but you can’t
because TV antennae and dogs
let out to toilet are in the way
What do you do in Suburbia
wait until the cursed shower
hangs on every leaf
and disguises humankind
–Victoria Emmons © 1979
Open Doors for Baudelaire
I will not be ruled by my cat. No more is he allowed to curl up in the warmth of my lap. No longer is he invited to live under my roof. I brought him home five years ago when he only seven weeks old. The cute, little champagne kitten stood out from the rest of the litter in the cage that day. I only needed one kitten. That’s all. But the volunteer with the pet shelter convinced me I should have a pair. This kitten would need a playmate, she advised.
I have had cats for over half a century. I know all about cats. Or so I thought. I did know the volunteer’s suggestion had merit. Kittens like to play with one another, especially when I am off at work and they would be otherwise all alone. Having a playmate helps keep them from climbing curtains, scratching furniture and other untoward behavior.
Rescue
Birdie
The Saturday morning market attracted the usual crowd eager for organic vegetables and people watching. My shopping bag was heavy with zucchini, golden beets, white corn, a potato or two, and a paper bag of Cremini mushrooms. The farmer’s market is the best place to buy fig vinegar and some of Sister Sarah’s homemade canned tomatoes. I couldn’t take home much else. Or so I thought. Continue reading
LED Morning
Three blue fives
Reconcile time
For the morning
Down the stairs
Follow green glow
To the kitchen
Red embers
Lighten the room
Draw me near
In the darkness
Inspire me to
Press new words
Cats follow
Interrupt thought
Cries of need
Feed the hungry
To satisfy
And fulfill
Flash of red
Dull warning
Signals light
Renew thought
An addiction
To e-mail
–Victoria Emmons, 2009
La Vue de rue Sleidan 