With Darkness encroaching,

Celeste

undressed,

her clothes scattered on the ground:

an apple tree losing her leaves.

-Laurie, Nov. 2022

I found this today:

I wake up with cramps

and her with holidays.

She drives me to work.

She laughs.

Sunshine Beauty

become me your laughter.

Raise me home.

Drive me to work.

Laugh me life.

                                                            1984

What a sweet summer memory. My work was daycamp counselor and it took 2 buses to get there. But I was looking for this one:

Sitting, holding the railing

on the back stairs here,

in case I fall off.

I lost you.

Rebecca was under my heart.

Rebecca was on tire swings.

My house is quiet.

Sometimes I forget to pull a breath in.

How was it?

I lost you.

Even the cat here has died.

1991

Happy Birthday my sweet baby girl.

today my amaryllis bloomed orange

dotted with red.

today is the first day of a war.

on tv, a soldier with green and beige spots said,

“they honestly think it’s an honour to die for their country

and we’re going to give them the opportunity.”

it’s an honour for him too, I hear.

when I sleep I dream of children

splattered with blood,

the amaryllis

big as a freckled face

jan. 16, 1991

Snake tells me: shed the old.

Snake tells me: time to go.

He slips out between my legs

leaving a space.

Only Trust

allows this wound to show.

Pure Love

opens its tight pink bud.

Only Light

dissolves the caked black pain.

Heart weeps relief.

Laurie Fraser’s Answer to Steve Forbert’s Toast to a Midsummer Evening.

Here’s to fat women eating large ice cream cones

nattering past my bedroom window.

Here’s to vicious baseball games,

a drive to nowhere,

hot bars,

sweaty women.

Here’s to Mr. Alcoholic dead at 2 a.m.

bang

bang

banging his wife.

Here’s to two litters of kittens in the kitchen.

Here’s to bags of charcoal and pot and Cheezies,

butterflies over the tiny uncut lawn,

old songs on the radio.

Here’s to noisy, bossy kids,

heat in my days

love in my ways

D.Q. on my waist.

Living in Mechanicsville in the 80s

In this still apartment

I stretch into yoga asanas

focusing on a black tree

in a windowframe.

Late summer blows hard.

Lightening silhouettes sway.

Warm wind circles the room

empty

except for me

forming a wheel

in a box.

Living on Kirkwood Ave.

Aidy Lady

Fat

Laundrymat

Wash the damn clothes

Fry the bacon

Achin’

Kiss him good morning

Retch on the way out

Hey Lady

Aidy Lady

You’re married and you love him.

Puke.

Look Luke

The house is burning

Yay!

Find another.

Crawl in,

Oh Fat One,

and make it a home.

Fat, Fat

To the laundrymat.

Gross

Tonight he wants roast

The dog craps on the floor

And the Aidy Lady cries.

Tonight

He’ll be horny

Think he was borny horny

Fat asks,

“This is love?”

No, crow,

But don’t look for something better

You’ll never find it

Life’s behind it

Never ever find it.