Poems by Taun


The Dining Room
Grandma's House
(4538)

I am lonely
for your light again
bulbs too bright
hanging down naked
from the white eyed ceiling.

I am tearful too, 
filled with the vague ache
memory hammers into the bone.

Your brightness-
even-
equally falling
on us all-
women
sitting close together once more
would
surely
heal me.

All rights reserved 1996, 2000
Taun Relihan ms  ma
Aestheteye@aol.com
May be duplicated with this crediting.


********

The Lunch Bucket
For my Grandfather
My Grandmother always packed a sweet thing in my Grandfather's lunch bucket 
for him to bring home to me in the evening when I met him walking up the lane.
(4808)    10-20-87

Late, when I was a child,
perhaps it was dark even
He would come slow down that lane
which was
by then
still a little light perhaps.

He always came the same way
from farther on-
came from the mines I knew.

His dazzling eyes
by then
encased in the white goggles of pale flesh-
all else
black of coal
but his smile-
   clothes black
    hands black
the lunch bucket too
black
and tinney
but light with its strong arch
and vault of cover.

It came home with him
from farther on
from the mines I knew
and in its heart
it has a sweet secret
hidden inside for me alone-
meant only for me-
when I was a child
when it was perhaps
still a little light.


All rights reserved 1996, 2000
Taun Relihan  ms  ma
Aestheteye@aol.com
May be duplicated with this crediting.


****

The Company Store
  
(1194)  

The Company store
when I was a child
was a vast ocean
of hardwood floors
gleaming 
as if asleep
in newly laid down wax.

A cagework of black grill
marked the place where the letters gathered
and cany buttons,
wax coke bottles
and bubblegum
flowed freely.

Over the counter
cold script coins passed
and up in the wet mines
the coal dust gathered
in my Grandfather's lungs.

All rights reserved  2000
Taun Relihan  ms  ma
Aestheteye@aol.com


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