Tina Barry:
Two Poems
Life of Charlotte
Teenage Bride
The bride wore a white polyester gown with a train that extended out the door of the church and down the block. Years later, she blamed the soiled fabric for the failure of her marriage.
Wall of Icons
A wall of icons can be beautiful if you don’t look closely at the hands. The hands tell stories of too short lives and unrequited love.
Eclipse
The neighbors gathered around the television to observe the moon perform a slow striptease. Having waited so long, the moon wanted its moment in the sun. (The cliché made it laugh.)
Oh, No
For the second time in a week, she opened the bathroom door and watched the comb and brush jump apart.
Tuscaloosa
A pin in a doll’s heart
then one in its foot.
Hot vapor
with its own populace:
The lady at Stop & Shop
with the dead eyes and gray perm.
Your neighbor’s pick up truck
grandpa’s house
with grandpa inside
and a prom queen
wearing a fake satin dress
corsage pinned just so.
Beloved
for its years of service
and unblemished safety record
a Ferris wheel gently rocks
its last riders
then dumps them to the ground.
People laugh
at the banality
of final thoughts.
Closer to the stars
a man finds comfort
recalling the part in his daughter’s hair.
Tina Barry is a freelance writer and graduate student in creative writing at Long Island University in Brooklyn, New York. She can be reached at tbarrywrites@yahoo.com.
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