Parry's Paragraph

Parry's Paragraph

Two doctors with clipboards clippety cloppity.
Hearing, the last sense to leave, hears them
ask something in that unlit tunnel. Mr Parry,
we were notified. You have some words that

I will be cutting through to. You. I will be cut.
I will be cutting. -- Through. Through. I will
be. I, Will, will be cutting through to you. I will
be using my fingers to --

you mentioned to Nurse Millicent. You wanted
these sent to an L.B. Is that correct? Address
is recorded? I think he's gone. He is. Lips were
moving but I got none of that, did you? No. No.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Bounced (At Chesil Beach)

Bounced (At Chesil Beach)

The sun. The eyelid of it, was shutting.
And we, nowhere near done discussing
Hardy's relentless pessimism, were waxing
inarticulate, when you kicked that thing.

It floundered and flounced, somersaulted,
bounced. And landed on another rock,
as we very nearly stopped, and did not.
It was the walking on I shall not forget.

As though you had not defied gravity, nor
thrust one being upon another, neither
concave. Rounded, these met, shivering,
at their polar regions, and stayed.

What I love is that you said nothing. Nor
did I. Our held hands blessed your cairn,
as fireflies heard of Tess, Angel, and
Stonehenge, for [perhaps] the first time.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Mom's Rhubarb Pie

Mom’s Rhubarb Pie

Who would think that green dragon wings
in the garden corner, clustered in a coven
could be attached to something so tasty?
Purple stalks hidden by this unruly canopy.
Bite one and consider the artistry needed.
Slicing, sugaring, syrupping, spicing –
A flaky crust must then be conjured, and all
baked into existence.

Tonight, at a whim, I walked into Memories.
Known for their desserts.
At a window seat I sipped a Monte Cristo coffee.
The glimpsed mile-high imposter on display
danced in my head, but I did not take her hand.
Did not order a slice. It would not be as good.
Could not be, as good.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Like A Runway

Like A Runway

Does heavy cloud cover mean the game is off?
They have instruments, even instinct, been-here-before
to guide them. Flying blind, there are few unknowns
really. Barring divine intervention, this hotel will go
where they put it. Delta-192 clear on Apron 11-B, Over.

The only way these 2,400 miles have been predictable
is repetition. The walkway is slowly extended toward
the door. Soon, someone who failed high school will
usher us onward, and we'll go. Honey, nothing is perfect.
But, as I lick your knees, your inner thigh, and upward,

everything that is happening, eyes closed, is --

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Worsted

Worsted

Yes. Nice try. And I was born last night in a barn!
He lifts the two end tiles -- The word means yarn,
she pleads, slapping them back. Having none of it,
he grabs her wrists, saying, Where is the fun of it
if you keep inventing stuff like this? She pouts,
reaching for the dictionary. Listen, he shouts,
If you think I'm conceding six points for your 'd'
landing on the triple letter score, you're crazy!

He turns away as she holds the page up to his eyes.
Be happy with your five letters. Do you realize
you've won the last two games? Leaving the book
open on the table, she allows him this second look.
But he folds the board. And as the tiles clatter
so does her heart, in as many pieces, shatter.
She runs away, and the bedroom door is slammed,
as worsted stares back at him. Well, I'll be damned.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

A Piece of Sunset

A Piece of Sunset

There you are, washing the egg-flipper.
No. Not somewhere else, but right here,
same world I inhabit. Same walls.
Same bills. Same toilets. Same children.

A few strands of your hair fall forward.
Others remain tied. Rinsed forks clatter
like castanets, defying anything domestic.
Strutting a fandango -- you aren't here.

I lean in closer to hear you humming,
nearly falling in the sand at your feet. I know
that song goddammit -- a piece of sunset
made you squint. And I remembered.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

First Friday

First Friday

Breakfast on the same side of the table.
Had you not insisted on this, we'd never have known.

I love when you first suggested such a thing. Other
meals matter not. In the morning, our shoulders will touch.

So there we were, with our cereal, that first Friday.
After a swallow, I turned my spoon toward you.

Curved side out, all's well. Flipping it round, concave,
well, everything between us is awry.

There was nothing for me to do but excuse myself
and stand behind your chair as you leaned back.

I cupped your breasts, and we kissed, topsy turvy.
All the while, how glad I was, you chose this configuration.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Aunt Elsie

Aunt Elsie

Not just the clanging of the dinner bell.
Difficult as this is to forget. Or her shrill call.
The walk-in-and-wander food pantry.
None of this brings her back as clearly to me as that
squint she had, sun or no. Nothing to do with light.

That narrowing of the eyes meant laughter, sadness,
punishment, linoleum repairs, change the channel,
chicken heads to be cut off, storm tomorrow, I had too
many children, or most of all, most of all -- open
yours as much as you can, while you can.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009

Billboard

Billboard

Being from a small town, I know that the first time I saw one I marveled.
Gasped and marveled. Perhaps not in that order.
May have marveled first.
I had not seen advertisement in such a large scale. I was overwhelmed.
Sincerely. As a child, profoundly enamored. Nothing held precedence.
There was one -- it said something about Percival Mercury, the best cars
were here -- Jesus, why would you go somewhere else? I could not breathe.
Can we move to this city, Father?

We are working on it, Son.
I would have endured any trial to get to the land of Billboard.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009