Four
Poems
by
Jacqueline Dee Parker
“Warblings
At Eve”
Warblings
at Eve, occasional use
of
fingers—the pattern under being
in
practical terms seductive
as
a mountain stream
seeking
consolation, the professor loves
in
his way, praising brilliant
occasional
use of fingers,
bravura’s
surge of being—
Remember
the fragrance of linden trees?
no
longer applicable, lessons,
peculiar
notes merging
in
practical terms, a pattern—long,
long
ago, fingers occasionally
made
Eve’s body warble.
WHILE
A
carnival of spirits, pale straws afloat in ginger boots,
men
in stripes of plaid, women unraveling
acres
of tulle and organza. Where are the children?
So
long! the goose cried, ruffling its back
feathers
moving like water, there’s simply no time
at
this hour to mourn losses like responsibility.
MUSE
This
darling’s long gone,
off
crocheting,
listening
to a symphony,
a
symposium of snowflakes
livening
a flat grey sky.
You
stir at her stove,
a
mounting ache of cotton
singed
with cookstains
and
pat recipes
your
apron pockets sag.
THE
NEW YEAR
You’ll
begin again, anew,
after
all is said and done,
the
bobbing adam’s apple, swelled breast,
wrists
pulsing arias or don’ts—
supper
plates stacked by the sink, drinks left
bereft
of ice or fingertips—
the
party will have descended to the sofa
transfixed
by some eclipse,
a
wick soaked in paraffin,
a
board game’s icon
four
squares from finish,
and
legs and arms will again fold
into
one another
as
in prayer—
Jacqueline
Dee Parker is
the recipient of a 2007 Artist Fellowship from the Louisiana State
Division of the Arts. Her poems have appeared in Atlanta
Review, The
Southern Review, Chelsea and American
Diaspora: Poetry of Exile, among
others, and she’s been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her
visual work resides in numerous private and corporate collections
and was featured in the 2010 Studio Visit,
a juried artist book published by Open Studios Press. She
is online at jacquelinedeeparker.com.