Each vein
is a memory
Each wrinkle
attests
Her bones
dry and brittle
Her grip
still arrests
Each day
brings a promise
Each night
a regret
Her will
is sustaining
Her heart
is at rest
She speaks
in a voice
that is shrill
out of tune
While losing
her wits
often
long before noon
But when
that itinerant
coyote
calls
She looks
down
at her hands
— and remembers it all
(Cody Senior Center: November, 2025)
A Poets Cell Phone
I’ve left it on rock ledges
elevators and bars
Taxicabs, backpacks
and motorcycles far
It sat on the Great Wall
as I walked away
And fell out of the raft
in Wyoming that day
It flew on the airplane
after I’d gotten off
Spending two days in Key West
Fedex as the cost
It’s kept me in touch
that’s important I know
But the voice it records into words
— much more so
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
My Cell Phone Voice Recorder