THREE POEMS

By Nolcha Fox

                              Photo Credit: Fubiz

MEMORY IS THAT RACCOON 

I chased out of the trash cans

with a broom this morning.

It was collecting treasures

I don’t know why I kept: 

leftover pizza from 

our first date 

twenty years ago, 

lightning bugs in a jar,

morning glories bursts

of purple on the fence,

snapdragons I made

to talk with stubby

toddler fingers,

sea shells from

a Mexican beach, 

glass shards from

our first fight.

I thought if I tossed them out,

I’d have nothing

left to lose.

                                                            

SANDWICH

Warning hands

hold together

the meat 

of innocence.

Mayonnaise

glues all my

unsung sorrows

to laugh-track

comedies on late

night TV.

I layer cheese

and French fries

between

my losses,

to protect myself

from separation

and grief.

                                                           

SHE WEARS HER WORDS

Her words are pearls

she wears around her neck.

She locks them up at night

to keep them safe.

Her words are rivers

running down her back.

She jumps into the ocean waves

to bury them in sand.

Her words are cleavers

underneath her nails.

She slashes clear

the path she walks alone.

                                         

Nolcha has written all her life, starting with poop and crayons on the walls. Her poems have been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Medusa’s Kitchen and others.