For Charles

Lab Partner, Chemistry 101



On the roof at Hoagies, we left our books open,
pages turning for the rare breath of wind.

September always remembered our names,
and pigeons left dry chalk calling cards
on our sun bleached lunch tables.

We ate Sweet Magnolia sandwiches, drank Coors
dark, foam kissed, and ice cold from the tap.

Conversation was easy, subjects heavy;
you solved my organic equations;
I explained oxidation reduction.

But, we never spoke of that other chemistry,
the class we knew we were destined to fail.

Back in the micro lab, sulfur acrid fumes mingled
with heady memories of Hoagie’s, and weed smoke
of others, who had chosen to lunch at Speedy’s house.

You opened a book, sparked your burner,
and prepared plates for a new inoculation.

I pulled our tray from the old autoclave,
washed tubes and tossed plastic Petri dishes.
All the germs of memory, raced into the drain.


Shirley Alexander
December 2009

Woman

Plight or Privilege?


Life is a broken bowl, held together
by the cup of a tired woman‘s hands.

History is written in swirls of dishwater,
crusty scent of freshly baked bread,
quick tilling of hard garden soil,
the relenting sigh of turned down sheets.

She knows how to touch a child,
a friend, a neighbor, a lover;
wicks pain with warmth of heart,
easy, the way a hot iron eats wrinkles.

Woman is the keeper of secrets;
practiced and painted smile,
under storm of hurricane eyes.


Shirley Alexander
© 2010