Evening News by Alarie Tennille

 

In Akron today, a cat pounced
at a flat-screen TV, knocking
two U.S. Olympic skiers off course
before being apprehended. Both
skiers have been airlifted
in critical condition, the gold
medal going to Norway. Details
at ten.

Congress called an emergency session.
This is an outrage that cannot continue,
a disgrace to our country. Constituents
are tired of senseless violence killing
dreams, stealing futures, say Senators
X, Y, and Z. It’s time to act.

Sources have leaked proposals:
requiring background checks
on all cat owners or an outright ban
of indoor cats, a move endorsed
by the FTC. Conservatives call
for building a wall to keep cats
from infiltrating our borders.

Rest assured, say all respondents,
we’ll do everything we can to keep
our young people safe. Rest assured,
assured, rest, safe, must keep ourselves
safe, safe, safe. Must do something.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Winter Occupation by Alarie Tennille

The trees stand at attention
in their drab uniforms –
occupying forces that have cleared
the streets of gypsies in their red
and yellow caravans. Now they ban
any show of color, discourage
public gatherings.

They even intimidate the sun
as they stand at attention
in every yard, bayonets pointed
at the tank-colored sky, boots
crushing grass the color of wait.

 

____________

 

Alarie Tennille was born and raised in Portsmouth, Virginia, and graduated from the University of Virginia in the first class allowing women. She misses the ocean, but loves the writing community she’s found in Kansas City. Alarie serves on the Emeritus Board of The Writers Place. Her poetry collection, Running Counterclockwise, was first runner up for the 2015 Thorpe Menn Award for Literary Excellence. Please visit Alarie  at alariepoet.com.

Staying Together for the Kids by Alarie Tennille

For months I dream
of visiting my parents.
The air is not choked

with cigarette smoke, not
charged with recrimination.
No one is hung over.

We laugh, talk, play cards.
We part on good terms.
The next time I take a friend.

“I thought you were dead,”
my friend says.
“We are,” they answer.

“We’re allowed to come back
18 times to help the living,”
explains Mama.

Daddy says, “Sheesh,
I’ve already been back
more than that.”

The Road to 129

This road began in Atlanta when a homeless man followed me up to Peach Street and asked for $1.29 for his wife’s operation. What followed was an anthology by America’s underground poets entitled Poems for $1.29. Yes it sold for $1.29 and no, it didn’t make any money. Then the idea was picked up by the Writers Place in Kansas City, expanded to include anything related to ―129‖ and used it as the theme in a poetry reading to benefit the Crystal Field Scholarship.
It did however, make some money for a creative writing student at UMKC and that is a good thing.

(Click on picture to view chapbook–then click on FULLSCREEN, then use mouse to turn pages on the right)