poems by Lindsay Maruska
Grotesque
grandfather’s hands killed
mother before we
knew her
built instead in coiled scrap-
wood, weak sand a woman
who belonged in blue
woods, who never cut
her hair. and what are children
of a murdered
mother meant to resemble
but pillars of salt,
cities of ash:
we catch quick mirror looks,
eyes murked as river-
bottoms: oh what are we
oh what
we are.
Frustration
kids grit teeth, stick needles in:
train hums low baritone
warped electric hymns bred familiars
out of kicked-up sand,
gull-shadows wheeling white
against white moon:
where nothing waits still;
all according to light & pull we move
through bitterness that comes to claim
this narrow spit
train empties its city guts & rutted
storm-drain roads smoothed
for tourist season: we dream drowning
in hotel pools, that bright blue
doesn’t exist anywhere else,
not the dirty harbor green, oil-
skeined marina lots: take postcard photographs
of grinning locals ;
but don’t ask them what they’re smiling about.
About the Author:
Lindsay Maruska is a 31 year old wannabe writer from New Jersey. She has six dogs, five cats, and one kid. She writes poems and one day dreams of finishing longer projects.
Find out more:
How to Submit:
For those who wish to be part of Story Time Friday in the near future, you can send submissions to the email address that I formerly used for review requests (but don’t anymore since I’m retired . . . don’t try to be clever and slip one in 😛 ): miztrebor88@gmail.com. Be sure to use the subject “Story Time Friday Submission” and send your piece as an attachment (.doc/.docx would be best). Any other questions, feel free to comment here or contact me through the blog’s contact form.
Hope to hear from some writers soon!