Rengay7

Ash Wednesday

by Marco Fraticelli
and Carolyne Rohrig


with the kindling
I bring in
dead wasps

                her remains
                still on the mantel

Valentine's day
a black and white movie
on TV

                fish market
                wrapping the day's catch
                in yesterday's paper

fingerprints
on the Mother's Day card

                Ash Wednesday
                a smudge
                on the baby's forehead

Rengay6

Hanging on Every Word

by Carolyne Rohrig
and Carolyn Hall


writer's block
inside my favorite book
Acapulco sand

                           steamy romance
                           two chapters upside down

playground gossip
a little boy hangs
on every word

                           tight Scrabble game -
                           in her hand
                           AAEIIOU

rehearsing the eye chart
before the doctor comes in

                           home late again-
                           she reads him
                           the riot act

Bird on the Wing

I walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting on the back of a chair picking at her bare breast. Her turquoise and yellow feathers had virtually disappeared except for the few that remained around her face and wings. Even her tail was short and stubby. Yet she was happy and quite willing to come onto my arm and continue her pitiful grooming. I asked her owner what trauma caused this and found out she suffered a terrible illness that normally kills macaws, but her life was spared. "I could write a book about all the miracles God did to spare this bird," she said as she came closer in her wheelchair.

                                               winter rain
                                               last year's pine needles spill
                                               from her umbrella

Haiku2

field mice -
the scarecrow's head
drooping lower


                                   autumn chill -
                                   the silence
                                   of the bee hive



cloudy skies -
different shades of shadow
in the cauliflower

Septenga1

Writer's Block

by Marco Fraticelli
and Carolyne Rohrig


               writer's block
               snow
               on the tennis courts

morning headache -
four aspirin with a latte

               days
               measured
               in pink pills

her tongue the color
of the cotton candy

                the day after the play
                my girls
                still wearing make up

rain drops smudge
the morning paper

                doing report cards
                the scent of lilacs
                fills my classroom

senryu9

postcard from the beach -
her scribbled greetings
without a signature


                                            gone swimming -
                                            I slip into the warmth
                                            of your lounge chair


pregnant -
sucking at her feet
the outgoing tide



                                            the dog growls
                                            at the wetsuit
                                            hanging up to dry


kicking stones
on the trail
the lump in my breast



                                            job interview -
                                            therapist's son
                                            makes no eye contact

Ixtapa

       The day was overcast. The plane taxied to the only terminal building at the airport. One palm tree grew by its side. We descended the stairs. The humidity wrapped itself around us like a hot blanket.
       We took a taxi to the marina. At the appointed time our contact appeared and introduced us to the skipper of the boat. We climbed on board and pulled away from the marina. We passed yachts, villas with lush lawns, and condominiums overlooking the ocean.
       Out at sea we went by craggy rocks that were home to sea gulls, pelicans and cormorants. We continued out a distance. My father told the skipper that this would be a good place. He slowed the engine and maintained the boat steady. It was a quiet sea with mild winds. My father, sister and I held hands and prayed. Then my father handed me my mother's urn.

                                               scattering her ashes
                                               in the Pacific Ocean
                                               the shriek of a sea gull