poetry red
By Mary Croy

 

our hearts red
beating to a universal
drum

our souls respond to blues
laid out in layers
even if we don't
recognize them

machines grind us
down
ideas put us in
the ground

still our hearts are red
dream sky

 

waiting for the test

Leonard Bernstein has me in the periphery
wondering how much spunk is left after 40 years
political conversation
drifts in
while rain drops outside
beggars unnoticed under
the ledge
I watch the clock
mocha sits uneasy on my
tongue

I'm in an old building
surrounded by new building
everyone in the café
longs for Friday
the conversation shifts

 

Mary E. Croy from US lives in Madison, Wisconsin where she works as an administrative assistant. She spent nine years teaching English Language Learners in Ha Noi, Viet Nam. During her free time, Mary likes reading poetry and hanging out with her cats, Buster and Gabby. Her work has appeared in Better than Starbucks, Woven Tale Press, and Valley Voices, among others..