Enclosed

Our bodies were meant
for the sun, the rain,
the gusty winds,
starlight and moon baths,
fresh air and seasons —
So why do we trap ourselves
      in indoor cages?

If we can’t hear the
birds chirp, feel the breezes,
how are we to be refreshed,
to heal, to know the world
beyond the borders
      of our bodies?

—Terri Guillemets

Fantastic shores

In bed at night his mind had a ferocious imagination
reality and unreality haunted his turbulent brain
the years ticked, an infinite clock of destiny
searching moonlight for the promise of a future
his reveries of heart were coasting on a fairy’s wing
as the world and universe drifted by fantastic shores.
But the sea, work, and women — physical outlets —
were his anchor — something old, hard, and soft.

—Terri Guillemets

scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925, Scribner 2004 trade paperback, pages 98–99

Midlife midriff

Eating a lot of garbage and dessert-obsessive
for several months, I put on a few pounds,
      — and more.
Waddling is hell, and fat is a problem for the heart;
      — I’m hungry & in pain.
Waist weight is a cruel joke, and age is no help.

—Terri Guillemets

scrambled blackout poetry created from David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day, 2000, pages 136–139