Water in the Wilderness

Excerpt

Tyne did not feel like giving her a civil answer. She did not feel like answering at all. But she glanced at Miss Larson, and saw both compassion and encouragement in her eyes. So she spoke as kindly as she could. “No, we’re going to wait until I get home. And, if it makes you feel better, my mother is with the children while I’m at work.”
Ruby did not reply. She took the coffee mug and drank thirstily, then put it down and stood up. “I gotta get outta here, I need a smoke.” At the door she paused. “I’ll speak to my husband and we’ll make other arrangements for the kids,” she said haughtily, then left the room without asking again to see her sister.
It’s just as well, Tyne thought, because she knew that Lydia’s body had been removed to the funeral home earlier that morning.
Miss Larson looked at her nurse whose eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry, Tyne. That was rough. She had no cause to say what she did.”
Tyne sniffed and lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Well, she’s upset. I don’t care what she thinks about me, but it sure hurts when people say unkind things about Morley. He’s a good man, Miss Larson. He lives his faith, that’s why people call him a Bible… a ….” She could not finish. Two tears slid down her cheeks, and she brushed them away roughly with her hand.
“This is the tough part of our job, Tyne, having to deal with bereaved relatives. We never really get used to it.”
Tyne nodded and reached into the pocket of her uniform for a tissue. “In the OR I didn’t have to deal with family, no matter what happened. I suppose I was insulated from the real world. I don’t know if I can handle it.”
“You will, Tyne. When you’re called upon to do it, you will. But, as I said, it isn’t easy.”
On the Cresswell farm, Rachael stood beside the fence and watched Morley herd the milk cows out to the lush green pasture. She didn’t know what was wrong with her today; she felt listless and lonely.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Liquid Labyrinth

Kodály race
Kodály-futam
your poem is either satanic or of the light of neon
like the twilight of a pub on a sofa
among naked vibrations teen keyboard
Kodály changed steps in the brouhaha
I am lending out of stitched sixth sense

  • the well-combed tune with a receipt
    my ashamed hand into your disguised pixel
    and the four-sixths between the lines that pinch the ears
  • on paper the watermark leaves a mark
    depressed pebbles in my pocket
    they get togather with a tropical donor heart
    and in the vision an authentic workshop secret
    your lovely melody keeps me in vain here to be
    I carved Kodály from the broken branches
    and your wicked appearance spoke to me
    on the street front of the keyboard it speaks hunches
    my boisterous gaze embalmed your visage
  • my target is shattering into pieces
    a Kodály voice’s price can’t be high
    if the half of some dirty words decreases
    I am the celebrator of the recent races’ magnificence
  • I am getting vacant – the new existence is ready
    at the costume party I’ve changed instruments
    because Kodály cannot be presented as mockery

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763718

Antony Fostieris – Selected Poems

The Devil Speaks

“The angel doesn’t know anything

of his beauty

I only I

who betrayed my nature,

my first angelic nature,

may adore it now.

I, the whole of me, can fit in it

and tasting regret in the kisses

I can dream, I can fall in love

with the denied.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763653