Waking welcome

Sun coaxing life
from the earth
with its warmth —
Grow, thrive, breathe
green things of the land
wake from your
winter’s nap and
joyously reach
for the spring—
Colors burst
into vibrant being
fresh fireworks
on verdant stems of life

—Terri Guillemets

A January day that lives forever

In my head —
      I’ve tried a million
      times to go back
      to that day —
tried to change
      my choices
begged a do-over
      from the universe
I’ve crippled myself with
      guilt
      sorrow
thrashing the quicksand
      sinking in
      layers of grief
fighting a sticky web
      trapped in
      regret-regret-regret
I don’t even care about
      my own
      broken heart
I’m sorry
      I broke yours

—Terri Guillemets

Memories shiver

Why does cold weather refresh old griefs?
      More quiet for reflection?
      Longer nights to lay awake?
Like citrus, grief is a winter fruit.

—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

Book party!

Let’s get drunk at the library
      and have a book party!
“What a good time!” she said
      in an excited whisper.

—Terri Guillemets

scrambled blackout poetry created from F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925, Scribner trade paperback, 2004, pages 43–45