A Deck of Pornographic Playing Cards
We were ten or eleven, my friend and I,
when we found them up under a bridge,
on top of a beam where pigeons were resting.
Someone had carefully hidden them there.
On each was a black-and-white photo,
no two cards alike. We grew quiet and older,
young men on our haunches, staring at
what we feared might be the future.
The pigeons flapped back to their roosts,
rustling and cooing. The river gurgled
as it slipped from the bridge’s cool shadow.
There were women with big muzzled dogs,
women with bottles and broom handles.
Stallions stood over the bodies of others.
The women smiled and licked their lips
with tongues like thorns. We grew old.
We were two old men with stiff legs
and sad hearts. We had wanted to laugh
but we couldn’t. We had thought we were boys,
come there to throw stones at the pigeons,
but we were already dying inside.
Ted Kooser
in Weather Central
Jeanne Poland in 2019
I am not my body
but holy outrage too
passionate beliefs-
that straddle the universe
golden light –
from my third eye to the tip of my toes
divinity-
that renders me eternal and able to transform
my body is a humble servant-
loyal for generations and sculpted by my tribe
Jeanne Marie Margaret DeLoca Sr Virginia Mary of Christ Poland Smith
4/22/19
quicksilver
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 