Saturday, October 10, 2009


photography by Robert Evans

You would think
the smell of death would
have the power to break down
unforgiveness and stubborn pride.

What I mean is
there might be a coming to terms
with stuff,
like slights and rifts and differing opinions
and even some bigger things,
when coming to terms with

Yet, the broken breaches
caused by words poorly spoken
are a series of little deaths
adding up to
mortal wounds -
irreconcilable differences.

And, being human,
we clutch tightly to what is ours -
fighting for
the last word,
the last breath,
and leave behind
a legacy of

… regret.

Lesley-Anne Evans

Thursday, October 08, 2009

Road Warrior

photography by Lynda Norman

She defines a small space really --
a brown speckled bump on
the solid yellow line
of Gordon Drive.
Feather’s ruffled by
intent mini-vans and
self-focused lives,

her expiration date is blessedly past.

They say mallards mate once,
for life,
and I wonder…
what will he think
when she doesn’t come home for dinner?

Lesley-Anne Evans

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Three Short Poems


Blackbird, blackbird, blackbird, blackbird.
Blackbirds on a telegraph wire.
Jostling, bobbing black head hellos,
sanguine communicados.


Hard to swallow lump,
heart beat tangible.
I wait for your call --
do you forgive me yet?


Panic packed in matching bags…
do I have all I need
to make a good impression,
to be who I really am?
Just three days at home
that isn’t home anymore.
I left a long time ago
and going back hurts.

Lesley-Anne Evans

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