Red Leaf

Red Leaf

I found the scarlet leaf in
My neighbor's yard
Underneath the maple tree.

So early, I thought,
so surprising on
the mat of deep, dark green.

I picked it up as the
Sun beat down on my hair
Making it warm and bright.

The red leaf is an epistle
From Autumn
Warning me of her arrival,
Always too soon for me.

Marsha Salerno
2020

Fleeting

Fleeting

A tap in the
corner of my brain
causes my head
to swivel.
Gotta jot that down.
It is elusive
I grab my pencil
find some paper
run to my typewriter
But it escaped
Next time I will catch it
I hope.

The Wait

The Wait

Is my waiting seen?
Is my waiting appreciated?
Is my waiting pain?
Is my waiting healing?
Is my waiting fracture"
Is my waiting patient?
Is my waiting tolerable?
Is my waiting foolish?
Is my waiting good?

Road Trip

Road Trip

I have been driving
for hours
Stuck in this seat 
wanting to be there. 
I must pay attention,
concentrate on the road,
see where I am going.
And wonder
how it will be 
When I get there?
The horizon does not
advance, but changes.
Clouds so low they
are mountainous--
trees, roadside flowers, crops.
I should be interested, entertained--
but I have seen it, 
passed it again and again.
Even the beauty bores me.

Continuance

Continuance

Others drop out of  Love
because of anger or
the inability to go past
disappointment
they can not let love overcome the
resonate intensity
but love can be 
so deep
and wide
that the imagination
cannot accept
the barrenness
of its absence

Marsha Salerno
2020

I Understand

I Understand

I understand the need
to shut away those thoughts
I understand the why
of balancing my traits
I understand the impulse to
show only my good side since
parts of me should remain
in darkness so
I can be a better person.

I try to keep my secrets
Then I feel such guilt
I don't know if you want it all--
my envy for ambition, beauty, creativity
rampant thoughts from my radiant imagination
the desire for all your attention
shame when I fail
I do not want it.

But even when
buried they
sprout roots and leaves
The things I'm trying to
keep unto myself
may grow
uncontrollably.

by Marsha Salerno
2020

OK

OK

It's going to be ok

It is one of those things we say

Reassurance.

We need it.

What it's going to be ok

does not tell us 

is that it still

might be really hard

it still might be a lot of work

I still may make mistakes

And the way time passes, it really may be ok in a few minutes

because I apologized and

you forgave

It may take time

Ok might not be what is hoped

But

Everything will be ok.

I believe it.

by Marsha Salerno

Oct 2, 2020

Breakage

Breakage

I do not remember

What was broken,

But the reaction.

Was unexpected.

Awaiting anger, scolding and rejection.

Anticipation caused 

hours of anguish while

waiting to confess.

It is just a thing, I was told

With kindness and patience 

And I felt redeemed

And loved.

9-12-2020

Marsha Salerno

Noble

Noble

See actions, know who

They are. Hear what they say, know

What they want to be.

September 2015

Marsha Salerno

Gain

Gain

Sometimes you must be

Willing to give up every

Thing to get something

          Marsha Salerno

          January 2019

Give Me Some Amazing Grace

Give Me Some Amazing Grace

I have asked,

In my way, 

But I will not ask again,

I do not think

I can.

But really,

I will not

Survive without it.

Marsha Salerno

August 2020

For My King

For My King

The Lion, lithe and regal…
I’ve heard it said his
steel claws lie in a bed of velvet,
ready to spring forth as needed.
I wouldn’t know of the necessity
for the closest I have gotten
to his majesty of the Savannah is you,
with your own tawny sleekness and a grace
in All things, more Royal than the cat.
A Strength to match with power proven
to be of intellect, kindness and gentility,
with a fine raw edge whose
Charisma draws me forth unbearably.
The Lion’s beauty is undeniable but cannot
Compare to yours among that long list of attributes
…so much to my liking.

Marsha Salerno
Valentine’s Day 2012

Waiting Room

Waiting Room

This is a place of equality
a place of expectation
where all who enter
hope for a quick and easy resolution.
Waiting on--
it could be anything--
innocuous reasons
or life and death.
But the waiting room
remains a place of expectation
where the result is unknown,
the future untold.
Resignation,
boredom,
protocol,
grief,
excitement
quiet whispering,
arguing siblings,
helpless bureaucrats following endless rules.
Overheard parts of conversation
are tantalizing and mysterious.
Guessing background and stories
can ease boredom and tension.
The longer the wait
the more impossible it seems
that an answer will be brought forth.
But all are eventually released
from the waiting room.

 Marsha Salerno 9-09

Overdrive

Overdrive

Driving at night

black road black night

headlights attempt illumination.

Is it enough light?

Drive on -- blindly.

My body feels frozen --disembodied—

I am alone, trying

to trust the other souls

driving this night-shrouded route.

My legs are gone.

Only the pressure of the pedal

and my hands on the wheel exist.

My companion stirs

"Are you ok?" I laugh,

paranoia ebbs. 

Daddy Sang That Song

Daddy Sang That Song

It is bittersweet
to have a memory
powerful and complete
that brings with it a strong emotion,
a good memory
that a smell or song evokes
but seeing it now
with the loved one gone
brings a deep sadness
which cannot be quenched with reason.
A reason which says
--Hey--
it's good to remember good times
and pleasant things.
But the sadness
oozes out with tears
even though it is a smile
that should come
and a thankfulness for the memory
not this overwhelming melancholy.

 Marsha Salerno

Introvert

Introvert

Don't worry about me
I am content to observe
I am peaceful
until you disturb me
with your efforts
of inclusion.
Persistence will not pay you this time--
you are pushing me away.
What you offer as a carrot
is a stick to me.
It does not bring me peace
or lead me to a good place.
Increasing my patience,
I wait you out
and gain freedom from anxiety.

July 2007

What is Real?

What is Real?

My perception is what I have.
Personal experience and worldly outlook
cause me to see a certain way.
I must live in myself
and activate my empathy
through observation,
conversation, and service.
If my reality is real,
I must strive to use
my own judgment
and see past
the affliction of television,
popular culture,
and envy.
I can not base my strength on
what I think
others love.
The answer lies
within me.

July 2009

Stimulation

Stimulation

I clear a blank area
in the room
with the intention
of workspace.
 It is restful-- empty
of things
a place to fill and create
sterile
no pictures
no clutter
no nothing
 Leaving it awhile
I return to find it
filled with my children
who have moved in
with their toy castles, soldiers, kings princesses, and trains.
 The space created for imagination and ideas
filled just right.

May 2009

Overgrowth

Overgrowth

The modern farmer
attempts the work of the Buffalos--
of lightning.
He clears the land
and keeps the prairie free
of extraneous growth
where he cultivates
his crops and allows his herds to graze.
But the plain misses the pound of bison hooves--
aches for the heat of the flame.
For the plow is not as discriminating as fire.

June 2009

Barked Shin

Barked Shin

Sudden Jolt
sparks through my shin
the electric intensity
of the pain disables.
I mute my obscenities--
expletive deleted.
Like in the comics,
I see stars.
I hobble
because it feels strangely better
to walk on the leg.
I examine my bruise,
poke at it
satisfied with the pain,
I return to my task,
a martyr.

June 2009

Herald of Summer

Herald of Summer

Plump green-filled leaves
like thousands of Elm flags
branch into infinite sun collecting parts.
The spring.
The beginning.
Anew the glorious sun-activated chlorophyll,
designed with solid roots in the ground
massive trunk branching
smaller and smaller
delicately ending in the waiving tips of the leaves. 

June 2009

Short Rest

Short Rest

Someone whistles
on tune
an old song,
but I cannot recall the words.
I stand to see who,
and that feels good.
I have been picking tomatoes
so long that my fingertips are black and green
with the residue of the pungent plant.
My strong brown hands rest at my sides.
I bask in the shade of a fluffy cloud
and stoop to work again. 

Summer 2009

Lonely Stand of Trees

Lonely Stand of Trees

An arc of trees
sprinkled with the green of early spring
stops the undulation
of the prairie's flow.
 Clouds hang low
over clumps of red, tawny grass.
The protection of a hollow
or the nourishment of a stream
allows this small wood
to thrive against the wind. 

Spring 2009

Tidal Wave

Tidal Wave

Swept away
emotion and feeling
lay on my heart
on my conscience
and stabs at my mind
Was it right?
Was it right?
The question repeats
until I relent 

I know it was not

I must-- 

even if my heart is harder on me than it should be--- 

I must ask forgiveness 

of me 

of them 

of the Lord.

Spring 2009

Modern Life

Modern Life

Thoreau sought to leave it all
and get away
from the trials and distractions of civilization.
To increase his closeness
to nature and his productivity.
Henry David.
What would he think of American life today
with endless opportunities
and avenues for fun and distraction? 

Spring 2009

Stillness Interrupted

Stillness Interrupted

A bare branch
scratches in my thoughts
its wind driven attention
flickers on the tree.
Gritty, grinding,
sandy thoughts
disturb the peace in waves.
Wing-borne contentment 

forces back the tides—
the wind,
the sound.
Meditation.
Enchantment.
Still.
Then a rampaging thing
flopping onto the sand bank
covered all in dried grass
breaks up my mind.
Is it sanity I was seeking?
Or something stiller, Still? 

 Spring 2009 

Sorrowful

Peach trees bloom
At the same time each spring.
It is a matter of timing.
As the axis tilts,
the sun shines,
the air warms.
And the tree knows the time has come.
It is a wonder that peaches come to fruition.
A late frost
seems to often wipe out the crop,
freeze the blooms,
   full of hope and life,
and they fail.
Each spring,
   though,
the trees bloom,
hopeful to produce the fruit--
   the progeny. 

 Knowing, sorrowfully,
what may happen, and
unable to change Spring’s cruel course.

Spring 2009

Mourning Dove

Mourning Dove

Calmly
the mourning dove calls
waiting for an answer
she calls again
Her coo is poignant—
at times it seems happy—
sometimes it seems hollow
or pained. 

Idly, I wonder 

about her mate, 
afraid to find his gray feathers
strewn about and he will be gone.
To my relief, his call comes
distant, from the east
and she answers,
echoing certainly.

Spring 2009

Child

Child 

You hold your hand against mine 

like a mirror image. 
You put on my shoes. 
You measure your height against mine.
I am your measure.
I hope I am large enough.
My life touches you in ways yet to be seen
as you watch my everyday actions and interactions.
I want to be worthy of your admiration.
I hope I am a good example
who will inspire you
and bring you no harm,
and help you to your best destiny. 

2009

An Elegant Terror

An Elegant Terror

I close my eyes
and see her again
Deep, glossy black
with a faint pattern
barely discernible
on her luxurious coat.
This panther is not leaping
for my jugular
or pouncing on my child.
Instead, she lies dead in the dirt.
A fine dust
covering her body,
tongue protruding through her saber-like teeth.
 Flies buzz around her,
their iridescent green bodies
match the former glossiness
of her beautiful fur
now shoddy and sad
in the bright, hot morning light.
I return with a shovel,
unable to tolerate the thought
of the encroaching ravens and buzzards
ripping through hair and flesh.
My shovel scrapes with a satisfying rhythm
as the hole deepens
to bury this elegant terror.

 Fall 2008

Burrowed—

Burrowed--

Under the close twigs
near the roots of a buck-brush bush,
with tightly wrapped buds
waiting to bring forth gray green leaves
and deep red, tasteless berries—
Burrowed—
in dark, dry grass and a down lined funnel—
No moves
No sounds
No smells—
Burrowed—
lie baby bunnies
waiting to grow
into their given place
on the cycle of life
some will be eaten by hungry, growing predators—
who also must take their place—
others go forth to multiply
as the way of Nature dictates. 

Spring 2009

The Twilight of My Mind

The Twilight of My Mind

Each night
 as I climb the stairs to seek rest,
my body is tired
but I see my pen
and I think just one, one line
and then he will let me sleep.
But the twilight fuels my hand
as my fingers grip the pen
and my mind frees with a fatigue
which leadens my lids.
My mind leaps for the darkness
And as the moon climbs,
my muse stirs in his sleep.
His dreams arouse my desire
to create a perfect image;
my hand races to record the ethereal thoughts
before he fully turns to embrace me
and I fall into his sleep.

2008

Bright Day

Bright Day

There's something in the air today. 

A certain earthy smell. 

The fragrance of grass, 

damp soil, 

leaves ready to fall. 

The cleanest light beams onto this 

as it glistens upon a pond 

and the newness of autumn 

brightens my soul 

and polishes it for winter. 

Autumn 2008

Loss

Loss

In the funeral stillness of the chapel
We wait.
Together we begin to sing
How Great Thou Art?
Our finish brings silence as
We wait.
The preacher's somber voice
brings words of solace, faith and forgiveness.
Prayer is quiet
and we wait
in the silence
as grief permeates the walls
and we soak in the enormity
of our loss.
Faith and salvation are the theme
as we learn that her
name is written
in the palm of God's hand
as He comes to take her home.
We sing Rock of Ages
The piano's final chords ring melancholy
in the impending silence.
The walls of the chapel
shudder with our realization.
We wait no more
and grief shines on our faces
as we rise to meet our
life without her.

Marsha Salerno September 2007

Autumn Angst

Autumn Angst

Each day shortens 

Insects sing louder, 

desperately. 

Cooler days are welcome 

but the price 

will be death for all. 

Beauty shines brightest 

and most rare cloaked in 

russet browns of autumn's 

golden last rays. 

Autumn  2007

The Moon on the Prairie

The Moon on the Prairie

It is hot
but I open the window
and turn off the air.
The crickets and frogs
are ever-present
as I tune out the city traffic.
and hear the leaves whisper on the trees
as they whoosh and sigh.
A far-off train
vibrates the air with its lonely,
off tune whistle.
The evening breeze
is alive and cool;
refreshing to my air-conditioned soul.
I close my eyes and
I know the moon shines on the prairie.

 Marsha Salerno

Long Life (For My Grandfather)

Long Life (For My Grandfather)

I lament the fact

that my work-worn body
has betrayed me
at the last of my life
which has been so
full, so beautiful
with its frights
and pleasures and
every day’s forgotten moments.
I hope they see beyond this
worn-out shell and into
the depths—
deep into my past—
our past—
when all was sharp and clear
without weakness.
Will I stay in this state so
long that they cannot
remember me
in my strength?
Will they remember dependence—
my reliance instead of my power?
Such a fleeting time
I stay in this state.
does it remake my life
only because it occurs at the end?

Marsha Salerno

Weather for Conversation

Weather for Conversation

Boughs budded,
leafed dropped, and bared
It is a language
not of style, love, art, famine, or horror.
It is the rhythm of life
roundly cycling.
Timeless, aiding, ailing,
caring not of human happening.
God’s rage, wrath, mercy, and blessing.
Unending.

 Marsha Salerno

River Bank

River Bank

The cutout leaves
silhouetted against the purpled golden sky
of dusk
amplify the peace
of walking hand in hand with you
as we watch the rise
of the new moon.
My heart hangs on its horns.

 Marsha Salerno

Broken Heart

Broken Heart

You should mend it.
It is yours, after all.
I am happy now.
I chose right.
What we had was wonderful
extraordinary
amazing.
I treasure that long-ago time.
But you know
things were not right.
 Not really.
Otherwise, we would be together.
The hurt is deep.
I see that.
I was hurt too.
Some of the hurt remains in a corner--
somewhere--
locked away in a box
shut with a golden key.

Marsha Salerno

Your Words Have Brought Me Peace

Your Words Have Brought Me Peace

It does not seem
that words could bring the damage
they often do.
 Sticks and Stones May Break my Bones,
But Words Will Never Hurt Me
is just not true.
 It would be nice if it were.
 Holding onto words
until we are sure of them
unfortunately is not a talent possessed by all.
But you.
Your words.
Your deliberation.
Your kindness
is inordinately important to me.
You are a stranger.
Yet my troubled mind
rubs your words on my wound
like a salve.
They have saved me.
You have saved me.
Your words have brought me peace
and provided the comfort
I need to go on
in this moment.

Marsha Salerno

Cottonwood Leaf

Cottonwood Leaf

Each particle of light
Dances from leaf to leaf
on the cottonwood tree
The line of trees
stands against the stormy blue
of the prairie sky.
They edge the Ninnescah
casting a shimmering,
 majestic light.
Leaves turn and flash,
flickering
in the after-storm breeze.

 Marsha Salerno

Friend

Friend

You are a compass
who inspires others
to find their way
their heart
their life.
You reach out to those
who need direction.
You listen
to those who need heard.
You are compassion and mercy.

 Marsha Salerno

Women Work in the Cabbage Field

Women Work in the Cabbage Field

Faces veiled,
arms in flowing sleeves,
shade the sun.
Flashes of metal
glint as each head
is cut and bagged
by the efficient team.
The rustle of the tight leaves
sound plastic
in the midst of the serene field.
 Deep brown contrasts the cabbage,
the strong scent of the plant
freshens the breeze
over the neat, compact rows.
They reach row's end
and turn to start on the next.

Marsha Salerno

Haitian Image

Haitian Image

The line of girls
sits waiting
Cocoa eyes emitting
a level, parallel gaze.
Slim arms grasp elegant knees
Each shoulder
aligns with the next
as similarity of face
frames the beauty of difference.
The age of anticipation,
waiting for something.

 Marsha Salerno

The Tree in my Window

The Tree in my Window

A sycamore holds its
leaf-shaped hands out to me,
to embrace me,
to soothe me.
I watch its branches sway. 
Calm.
Silent out my window.
I dream.
Of nothing but green against brown and blue
I gaze on Hope and Eternity.

 Marsha Salerno

 Summer 2007

Love Poem for Gino

Love Poem for Gino

The sun rises
my mind moves to you.
My thoughts expand
in the warmth and light.
Thrill leaps to my heart.
I turn my face to the sunshine,
stretch and rise.
Peaceful--contented.
Amazed that you, my love,
are part of my existence.

Marsha
Feb. 14, 2009

Father’s Love

Father’s Love

Sacred and important
--an honored blessing.
It is a joyful, ultimate love
which brings strength,
wisdom, and sanity.
A teacher and shepherd
whose duty and diligence are humble.
Given without question,
accepted the same.
Beautiful father’s love. 

 Marsha Salerno 

Searching for Contentment

Searching for Contentment

Sometimes a cloud

hangs over me.
Over my happiness.
My sanity.

I look at it too long
and make something of it.
Or I swat at it as if
it were a fly
but my fingers pass
right through
the vapor
of that cloud and I
miss the pest of
emotion.

The sting of a bite
and a few half-hearted tries
awaken me to realize
I must focus my intention.

I fold my fingers into
a hollow cup,
aim for the center,
and this pass is
effective.
My positive efforts,
my intentions,
dissipate the cloud.

The fog lifts,
I see
the brightness of
contentment.

Marsha Salerno
March 2009

Is it the Gift?

Is it the Gift?

Or is it the act of kindness
that lifts my spirits so?
You brought to me a cup of tea,
which is an act of kindness.
And thought that I
might like cream and sugar
so you brought that along as well.
But is it the tea?
Or is it that you kindly thought of me?

Marsha Salerno

Live for Us

Live for Us

What if we lived in consecutive generations
and swung through time
hand to hand
our souls renewing on the wheel of fate
without direction?
What if our ancestors from long ago were us
—not just ancestors,
but ourselves?
What if our descendants
in the future will be us?
Would it change us,
knowing that?
Would it end our callousness and waste
if it were for ourselves—
for us as individuals—
for whom we preserve the future?
We found fire for ourselves,
we made the printed word.
Could we cure cancer and AIDS
and take care of the world?
Would we understand each other,
race, religion, disability,
because we lived that life too?
Would we? 

Marsha Salerno

Stalking the Poem

Stalking the Poem

The Poet must be a detective
who warily tracks an idea
and charms words to confess
an emotional articulation of image.
Clues pieced together
form line and stanza
which are closely examined
as if under a magnifying glass
then rearranged for effect and revelation.
The sleuth must ascertain
guilt or innocence of black on white.
The guilty are punished
with exile
and the innocent set free.

 Marsha Salerno

The Beach Beckons Me

The Beach Beckons Me

Power. Majesty.
Siren song of the sea.
Moonlit nights,
dark stormy times,
days without end
the ones I miss.
Walking in the sun and sand
Laughing with friends
taking advantage of the beauty
and energy all around us.
The never-ending undulating tide
sweeps me back
each time I remember.

Marsha Salerno 

2006

Save Thyself

Save Thyself

Find your salvation
Heal on your own
Seek your peace
Find your bliss
You are in command
Purify your soul
Breathe in through the nose and
out through the mouth
Feed your heart your lungs your mind
with the good air of the earth.
Control your breath
your thoughts
your life
your joy
Envelop your salvation

 Marsha Salerno April 2009

Vision

Vision

There is a path
between the trees
in the forest
lying next to a hill at path’s end.
The rise of the sun glimmers
through the branches which meet briefly
in the breeze leaf tip to leaf tip,
forming a tunnel of green fir.
The first squinting light
so bright the edges of the trees distort
into the silhouette of Him.
And he waits,
calling my name.

Marsha Salerno
April 2009

Bleak

Bleak

White-out conditions
Blank
White in sky, on land
Bland
A satin texture
Blanched
Cold into the bone
Blind
Asleep in a cold coffin
Blink
Am I awake?
Blue
Sparks fly past my eyelids
Blood
Feel the pulse and flow
Black
The White has faded
Blocked
There is no exit
Blunder
Apology is the recourse
Blame I will not know
Blessed
All things shall pass

Marsha Salerno

April 2009

A Very Strong Emotion

A Very Strong Emotion

Which I try to keep secret.
Is it dangerous?
 Is it over-reactive?
It is unexpected, unwanted, and feared.
Its arrival makes me unsure.
So I unsuccessfully try to still the emotion
and wonder if that is wise.
I waiver and fear as it begins
to look like anger
and expresses itself
unbidden on my lips and in my gestures.
I realize I must speak of my painful jealousy.
I receive the necessary,
sincere reassurance
through the un-judging wisdom
and loyalty of my Love
who recognizes my need and
mends my confidence
with his healing presence.

Marsha Salerno
September 2008

Brain Specimen

Brain Specimen

Lacy folds
wrinkle one upon the other
Each wrinkled fold
is called a gyrus
and each of us has
our own individual pattern
of these folds.
Sliced thin,
the light box makes this dense tissue
seem translucent and dry.
Alive it was fueled by one-fourth
of the body's oxygen-soaked blood
and full of ideas,
never at rest,
always keeping the body
nourished and working.
Always thinking and dreaming.
The cerebral ventricle
is the open part -
what did it hold in life?
This sliced piece looks like a face.
Is this brain's spirit
as beautiful as the brain?

 Marsha Salerno
 May 2008

Proposal

Proposal

A delicate balance
must be achieved
for the one who asks
cannot do so
until he knows
the answer is yes.
 She must achieve
exactly the right balance
of not being eager
and letting him know
the answer is yes.
 This miscommunication
will be gone
only to begin a life together
full of negotiations,
misunderstandings, sorrow, joy,
and delight.

Marsha Salerno

Plaza Restaurant

Plaza Restaurant

A man yells incoherently
outside my restaurant
where the busy sidewalks
are filled with tourists and others
in the city for a Sunday afternoon.
The man is shouting religious mantras.
 He seems unstable, unsafe.
 Children are frightened.
A couple tries to place his accent.
 Others crane their necks to see.
Action is needed,
so I jump the barricade
onto the sidewalk
and follow the man's voice into the crowd.
I look back to where I stood
and a mother's eyes are upon me.
She says be careful.

 Marsha Salerno

Opposites

Opposites

River glides silently.
Cicadas call insistently.
They are companions
with no awareness
of one another,
bound together by nature.

 Marsha Salerno

I Can Not Sleep

I Can Not Sleep

The worries are running my mind.
Why are there so many,
ruining my rest,
causing me pain?
They leap monstrous
from my mind
and grow Omnipresent
as I try to shut them out
one by one by one
Slam the door.
Turn out the light.
They slide back from dungeon darkness
of my imagination
and wake me again as I doze.

 Marsha Salerno

Path Defined

Path Defined

What moves a man
to do the impossible
the un-seemly
the unwise?
Why must he accomplish
that which has not been done before by him
--and perhaps no one?
What moves him
to encounter danger and thrill?
Low in the valley
he must embrace
the dangerous sheer paths,
think about every step
fraught with slippery struggle
to surmount the peak
and gain from the mountain
he respects and fears.

Marsha Salerno 2008

Time Wears a Disguise

Time Wears a Disguise

A caterpillar warily creeping
seems slow to me.
I follow it with my eyes,
Tire of its steady journey.
 I no longer watch and wait—
It has become a russet Monarch
which glides past me
with a jerky and uneven pace.
I try to anticipate its unknown path
but don’t know where it has gone.

 Marsha Salerno

Duty

Duty

I am a mother
and a woman
so I understand
when you say
it isn’t about me.
I know.
Nothing is about me.
I am invisible.

 Marsha Salerno

Reassurance

Reassurance

The rain carried
a sorrowful dream
brought back by the underground smell.
It showed my past
where love
had given only ruptured promise.
Awakening in present
was strange with forgotten reality so near.
Bedroom blackness engulfed;
yielded fear of painful past as now.
Familiarity erased amnesia
I was home again,
the blackness merely darkness—
shattered dream,
a nightmare.

Marsha Salerno

Puddle Prints

Puddle Prints

My feet are wet
from walking through a tiny rain pond.
 I leave marks behind—
splashy print on light cement.
They become less watery
and more like soles.
 I turn and watch the impressions of my feet,
splashy and perfect,
fade to dryness.

Marsha Salerno

Plain Black Bird

Plain Black Bird

Yesterday I saw a starling
promenade through blades of green
as a Gentleman on a Sunday stroll.
His rainbow black feathers
shimmered purple then green,
but his greedy dark eyes
and ludicrous smile
gave him away as he skipped
to his smashed beggar’s dinner.

 Marsha Salerno

Paralyzed

Paralyzed

My sleep is uneasy
I dream of terror.
Anonymous danger stalks me.
My eyes cannot penetrate the sinister shadow.
I cannot get away—
Motion is sucked from my legs
as if I am wading in grain.
Ground level clouds
seeping to surround me
are turned dark by my fear.
My mind leaps to save me,
volunteers a scream,
but my jaws are bound with terror.

 Marsha Salerno

Miscarriage

Miscarriage

We knew you were coming
we were happy—and frightened.
One month later
here you are in my palm
I know it’s you,
and you are dead.
I cry with pain,
Your father holds me.
Then, to be sure,
we check the biology textbook.
The fetus likeness, and you
— the same.

Marsha Salerno

Death in May

Death in May

I wander through pools
Of leafy sunlight
Past columns and rows of anonymous tombstones
Planted by sadness and
Growing from the ground
Like the trees which shade them.
 I search for the one I know,
Unblackened by time
With letters as deep
As the chisel had carved.
I carry white yarrow and thorny blue thistle
Which I picked from the roadside
Of his death at sixteen.
 His grave still seems new to me,
Yet it is covered with grass.
I stare at the white stone,
Remembering haunting unfairness,
And wonder at his abandoned future
Now bound in dust.

 In Memory of Bert

 Marsha Salerno

Distorted Vision

Distorted Vision

Bubble wand full of soap
Waxed paper
Hundred year old glass panes
Swarm of gnats
Residue in yesterday’s glass of lemonade
Sun through a dirty windshield
Window on an icy morning
Red cellophane from a box of chocolates
Negatives for pictures too light
Milk spilled on a glass tabletop
Blackened welder’s mask
Dirty spectacles
Bee’s wing

Marsha Salerno

Prairie

Prairie

Bowl of Blue
Skirting of dark trees
Ribbon of water
Carpet alternating
Gold Green Brown
Simple beauty
of fragrant grass and sage
drift on the wind
as it sails
from one end of the plain
to the other

 Marsha Salerno

Tragic Flaw

Tragic Flaw

An Overactive Imagination
Imagining the worst is horrible.
So knowing all of the truth
-- every bit--
is tempting.
The truth must be better
than my tragic flaw.
At least it is real.

 Marsha Salerno

Secrets

Secrets

Life is so intensely personal
that it is frightening
to share
for fear of rejection
or misunderstanding.
Unsaid thoughts,
misgivings and insecurities
are not always
best unheard.
Sometimes they are best lost,
released into the fog.

 Marsha Salerno

In the Night

In the Night

I wake to your reassuring touch.
Behold your beloved face.
Your presence is powerful.
Reassuring.
Intoxicating.
My soul sought yours
and you appeared.
(for Gino)

Marsha Salerno

Adoration

Adoration

Laurel leaves grace
thy handsome brow
Where the light
of strength, wisdom
and kindness shines
past centuries to equal
Solomon, Socrates, and da Vinci
as timeless contemporaries.
Libra's balance sustains and tempers
passion, power, and creative obsession
as an admirable directional force.
Thy fair countenance,
made fairer by thy genuine heart,
draws me to thee in love's mystical nature.
 A sonnet's complication
would tribute thee,
but these simple phrases
are wrought with love and adoration.

 For Gino from Marsha February 14, 2008

Drowsy Gift

Drowsy Gift

It Is Late
I am not yet sleeping
because I choose not to do so.
Instead, I think of life
and its precarious preciousness.
The ebb of crickets and insects
too numerous to name
lull me to sleep
as I think of you.

Marsha Salerno

Robin in Blue

Robin in Blue

Comfort of the silkiest aquamarine sari.
Mystery of the living turquoise.
Cobalt of the sleek vase
wrought by her hand.
Surprise of the life-giving
egg-shell found in the grass.
Sparkling light of the precise topaz.
Succor of the secret sapphire.
Blue of the Sky where Robin soars.

Marsha Salerno

Life is Hard.

Life is Hard.

Painful.
As depressive as it is manic.
Hurt.
Everywhere we turn.
Love - Lost
Parent -- Dead
Trust -- Shaken
Friendship -- Elusive
And there is worse.
Much worse.
Disillusion
disappointment and death
lie in the future.

 Marsha Salerno

Once I Didn't Understand

Once I Didn't Understand

why or how
someone could commit suicide.
Now I understand.
They just want out.
Out of the pain.
Out of the responsibility.
Out of the guilt.
Out of the distrust.
Out of the misery.

Marsha Salerno

Romance

Romance

If your wife
ever calls you
and asks if you love her
Say yes (without pause)
I love you.
When you see her,
hold her for at least one minute.
Kiss her romantically.
Say I love you.
That is the very least you should do.

Marsha Salerno

Cuñado

Cuñado

My brother in law
once told me
that you must be happy...
...anyway.
 Life always brings problems and pain.
Love, children, family, health
friends.
Money concerns
and business,
job and career.
People.
Problems.
Woes are omnipresent in life.
His words angered me.
My own father was dying
and my sadness and grief embraced me.
I grimly smiled at his advice
and said I guess you are right.
 I did not know he was so wise.
Es la Vida. 

 Marsha Salerno

Realization

Realization

Tireless washing, cooking, cleaning

doing, helping, listening, loving
missing the fun
always up and going.
Why didn't she mind?
I never knew
Until I stood in
His kitchen cooking and cleaning
for the one I loved.
Then I knew
why she didn't mind.
I understood.

Marsha Salerno

The Carpet

The Carpet

Serpentine Circling upon itself
A musty braided mystery
of dust and tradition.
Brown, black, white
winding around,
spiraling in on the parlor floor. 

Marsha Salerno

2009

Piano Lesson

Piano Lesson

Let me hear your lesson.
Did you practice?
Good boy.
Do your five finger exercises.
Good. Do do do duh da da da dah Good.
Remember to connect your tones.
There you did it.
That is nice.
You'll want to play that one for fun.
Remember to hold the half notes.
One more time.
And this was a new sign:
Repeat with two dots.
Left hand.
Now right. Not bad.
Quarter quarter half note.
Quarter quarter half note.
Good. Let's see if you got it.
There you go.
You can practice that again for next week.

Marsha Salerno

2009

Overheard Telephone Conversation

Overheard Telephone Conversation

No I'M NOT coming home 

You treat me like nothing 

I don't want to be around you 

You don't know what you are doing to me
I'm not coming home till very late.
I'm on my way to the car now.
No! I won't come home.
On my way to the car.
At the park.
I am leaving now.

Marsha Salerno

summer 2019

Lost Opportunity

Lost Opportunity

I stand here washing the dishes 

and I sigh 

For all the times 

my mother washed 

and I did not want to help her, 

but I had to. 

I sigh for those moments 

I wished to be elsewhere. 

I sigh for those moments 

I could have spent with her in bliss. 

But, at least we were together. 

I did not understand 

the enormity of those moments 

as she instructed me 

in the ways of the world, 

and the code to live by 

floating in the air 

like bubbles of soap. 

Marsha Salerno