Darlings, by Michael J. Leach

Darlings
by Michael J. Leach

If you asked me to share
just one piece of writing
advice,
then I would advise
you not to kill
your darlings
but, rather, spare
them
& carry them elsewhere:

carry them all to the base of the highest pinnacle
within reasonable
walking/driving/other distance
&, taking extra care not to trip & stumble,
ascend to that pinnacle & raise up each darling—
                                                                            Simba-like—
                                                                                               to the light.

Process note: This poem addresses the commonly dispensed piece of writing advice “kill your darlings”, which has been attributed to many writers. I wrote this poem from the perspective of a writer reflecting on elements of particular written works that were cut out and later used in other pieces of writing.

Michael J. Leach is an academic and writer. His poems reside in literary and scientific journals, such as Cordite, Red Wolf Journal, and Medical Journal of Australia, as well as various anthologies—Still You (Wolf Ridge Press, 2019), One Surviving Poem (ICOE Press, 2019), and No News (Recent Work Press, 2020). Michael’s debut poetry collection is Chronicity (Melbourne Poets Union, 2020). He lives in his hometown of Bendigo, Australia.

Soffits, by Martha Phelan Hayes

Soffits
             for Cindy 1954-2018
by Martha Phelan Hayes

In the first house, we built soffits.

If you don’t know what a soffit is,
it is a structure built between the ceiling
and the top of the kitchen cabinets.

We wallpapered ours with blue and beige flowers.

You might not choose soffits at all,
let the cabinets stand free. We did this
the next time around. I put some plates
and pottery on top. They rested
behind a spiral wood railing.

My apartment has old kitchen cabinets,
painted white, glass paned, high,
and full of space. The wood trim
butts them against the ceiling.

I can’t change them because they are not mine.

My friend left behind
Malaysian hand-knotted rugs,
the mystery novel she
was reading, half a dozen
bottled pills that did not work.

In her kitchen, there are soffits
painted the same neutral color
as the walls she used to live
within. She wanted a color
that would go with everything,
a color that would last forever.

Professor Martha Phelan Hayes teaches English at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Connecticut. She is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Sou’Wester, Bangalore Review, Everyday Poems, Freshwater, Fresh Ink, Naugatuck River Review, Orpheus, OxMag, The Penmen Review, The Slippery Elm, and Vermont Literary Review. Her poem “Elle Clare” won first prize in the 2010 Central Connecticut Poetry Contest sponsored by Altrusa International.

Eavesdropping, by Martha Phelan Hayes

Eavesdropping
by Martha Phelan Hayes

I wait for them to get ready,
to decide on sundresses, glittery
sandals, ribbons for their hair.

What should I wear, she asks
her big sister, an eight-year-old
she believes knows everything.

Two minutes later, I hear
her refuse an offer to fix
her ponytail: I can do it
myself, she snaps.

The next morning, we shop.
I can wear anything, she tells us.
I would look good in a bush.
A bush? Her mother and I
share a laugh. She is five
and doubt can’t yet touch her.

When I kiss her goodbye,
she clutches me as if letting
go will end her world.

I am wise enough to know
it won’t.

But what, I wonder,
will her arms someday ache
for? How long does
she have before they
feel the weight of loss?

Professor Martha Phelan Hayes teaches English at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Connecticut. She is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Sou’Wester, Bangalore Review, Everyday Poems, Freshwater, Fresh Ink, Naugatuck River Review, Orpheus, OxMag, The Penmen Review, The Slippery Elm, and Vermont Literary Review. Her poem “Elle Clare” won first prize in the 2010 Central Connecticut Poetry Contest sponsored by Altrusa International.

Saraswati in the Strip Mall, by Martha Phelan Hayes

Saraswati in the Strip Mall
by Martha Phelan Hayes

It’s not the deep depression
that nails you to the bed
and leadens your feet.
But it’s a sinking of sorts,
a string of days washed
of color, and that’s
the kind of week it was.

Skeletal landscape
and anemic light.
Nothing seemed to fit,
not even the shoes I bought
in the middle of the night
because I could not sleep.

But where the Walgreens’
parking lot meets
the abutting residential
yard, I caught spring
wandering into
the dead of winter.

The afternoon sun lit up
this lawn—fresh green
peeking out of the mouth
of a melting snow shell.

Suddenly I knew I would go on.

Professor Martha Phelan Hayes teaches English at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Connecticut. She is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Sou’Wester, Bangalore Review, Everyday Poems, Freshwater, Fresh Ink, Naugatuck River Review, Orpheus, OxMag, The Penmen Review, The Slippery Elm, and Vermont Literary Review. Her poem “Elle Clare” won first prize in the 2010 Central Connecticut Poetry Contest sponsored by Altrusa International.