Can we share comforting solitude.
Under my uncle's shed.
I like to go there when it rains.
To hear the drizzle upon a tin roof.

There, I have been in slumber.
But, if you sit with me, I would
have more to offer.
Now , I hold a hat made of woven fabric.
That hovers the chilly days and nights.

But, warmth would reside without
furnace or fireplace heating.
When your skin has brushed my skin
igniting beautiful wildfires into my soul.

Although the day is sunny, birds seem
to fly back home.
In restless solitude I pine beside the pecan tree.
The tree is now bare for season is changing.
Today, flopped among a small patch of grass
I imagine you beside me.

I hear the rustling in the woods where a worn walk
has been made into a muddy pathway.
As I close my eyes, the warmth of your breath
brings me out of boredom. Then I don't feel alone.
I grin, laugh a little each time.
Until the path is clear and your face disappears.

It has proven its point.
The barrier between you and I.
While the ceramic tile presses
against my feet.  In a distance,
there the plastic siding hugs
the brick foundation. As shrubbery
is not yet green nor my pockets.
Inside, the heat sweats the yellow
stained-sheet rock. Into the pit
of my stomach, causing a burning
sensation. This is a four by four.
As my legs walk around in a circle.
I think... Where found,  wood chippings
and bread crumbs that hover over
a Persian rug. The pattern of sunflowers.
Like the ones on out-dated place mats.
And I sat, rubbing away the goo from
underneath each one. While the air
thickened, regal like a stiff neck. I wait
for a sign to say when. Most of the cheap
clothing has been packed. They are ready
to move. They are dancing. Across the floor
of sunflower dreams.

Ordinary she said, the plain Jane of feminine.
I'll gladly take up with her.
There should not be a shimmer around my
crown. Nor lashes that drive men to wild.
There is not but one side for a woman of
my caliber to parade. Look at me over here.
Like you did yesterday, before I traded in
heels for flats, short skirts for long ankle dresses.
You will dream of a different woman.
She is the new era. Where the girls love
themselves willing as silverware.
I am passion in a bottle. The mistress naught ******.
As mirrors are satiated in secret praise.
My wishes are smoked out by the steam.
They fade deep into you.
Your sparkling compromise in mediocre view.

I shall not sing a May song.
A May song should be gay.
I'll wait until November
And sing a song of gray.

I'll wait until November
That is the time for me.
I'll go out in the frosty dark
And sing most terribly.

And all the little people
Will stare at me and say,
"That is the Crazy Woman
Who would not sing in May."


Anonymous submission.
Gwendolyn Brooks

Little Susie was eager to go to the toy store.
Her mother was buying her the newest doll
“Charming Cherry”. She had to have one.
All of her friends had one. She was already
dressed in mixed match clothing. Proudly,
shaking her mother, modeling her new look.
However, mother was tired and scolded
Little Susie for awakening her so early in
the morning. Oh, Susie was so anxious
as she went in and out of the house, irritating
the neighbors with her frequent hellos and goodbyes.
Finally, her mother was ready. Susie was to eager
to eat breakfast. “Let's go mother, someone may
buy them all up.” Hurry... As they arrived at
the toy store,  she nicely asked the clerk, “where are
the Charming Cherry dolls?” She raced down aisle
number five. Her mother so tired from working
the graveyard shift could barely keep pace.
Susie big brown eyes, looked fearlessly as a
hunter stalking its prey. She looked and looked until
her eagerness started to fade. “Where are they, she
asked her mother?” Her mother went and got a
stock boy to help look for the doll. It appeared to
be sold out. Susie couldn't believe it. Now what
was she going to show her best friend Barbie.
Her emotions ran along side her flushed red face.
She was very upset , to the point she went into a tantrum.
Susie began knocking other dolls off the shelves.
She reached high as her short legs could to do damage.
Not much considering her fist was about as big as a  
golf ball. However, she hit hard enough to cause a
seen in the store. She and her mother were politely
asked to leave. When Susie got home, her mother
threatened to punish her by not allowing any play time.
Susie slammed the room door, kicking the walls, leaving
shoe prints. Screaming, it's all your fault repeatedly.!
All of a sudden , she took the Raggedy Ann doll and
beat it until the seams started to loose. She beat the doll
against her dresser, walls, even stomped on it.
As the poor, innocent Raggedy Ann laid on the bed; the
stuffing coming out from around her head. Susie, screamed
one more time, “ it's all your fault!” When her mother
entered the room, she found Susie in the corner just staring.
“The manager said a new shipment of Charming Cherry
will be in tomorrow.”  “You see, never give up my Little Susie.”
(I'm sorry Raggedy Ann)