Monday, May 5, 2025

Results of a Ribectomy

 


Hey, it’s me
that ribectomy
because you 
were lonely.

Is it working 
out for you,
that not being
lonely part?

I thought, being
made of a rib,
you’d want me
to walk beside you,
but you want me
watching the back
of your head.

That worked for a bit,
but not so much now.
You just keep walking
us toward war.

I’m moving in front
so we can stop
walking the dead
end of your treadmill. 

Remember
 that time
you were lonely?
I’m not sure it was
made clear to you
the rib was given
 her own voice. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025



Thursday, May 1, 2025

Black Coffee and a Tin Halo


Coffee black, cactus tongue sharp,
and a tin halo makes Louise
Mother Mary of the only
Wal-Mart that can brag
bear spray is their biggest seller.

It doesn’t take an Einstein to guess
Kodiak Alaska wasn’t named after
a cattle ranch in Texas or a chicken farm in Arkansas.

Up in the chill where remote
doesn’t describe an armchair controller,
Louise is the best glitter on ice for miles.

She brags the doll ambulance (make-up section)
is where a lady can paint her cheeks tulip pink
to tease a man into believing she’ll stay longer
than a bikini strut on Homer Spit Beach in January.

No one really knows how Louise ended up in Kodiak.
She doesn’t talk about her past or wink and flirt about the future.
It seems to the locals she’s a unicorn in the rough,
a salty angel with a southern drawl who dropped
her wings in the Wal-Mart parking to hold court 
in a kingdom where you can buy a gun and plastic ivy. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

I really don't know how my poetry arrived in a Wal-Mart in Kodiak, Alaska, but my muse took me there.  So I did some research, (yes, poets do research), and I found my Louise. :)






 

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Brain Trust


I have two brains,
one housed in bone,
the other in nest of gut.

There are times they
cooperate, agree, 
but when they don’t
I’m left to decide
which one I trust.

My brain loves 
me to take a seat
in overthink, parade
scenarios, insist 
superiority, argues
logic should guide
every decision.

But my gut, my intuition,
my premonition, my compass
in what to do, avoid, give,
and deny has wisdom I don’t ignore.

My gut has been sending a lot
of messages these days.
The one in my skull is attempting
patience, but its bullishness
doesn’t care for overriding 
so, there are days I suffer its petulance. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025


NaPoWriMo  Day 17


 

Solving Didn't Pass I.D. Check


Ever tried to brainstorm
in a bar where coke courts Jack
and the luck of the draw will
find a monkey on someone’s back?

In the broken neon ambiance 
much of the thinking isn’t worth
a penny, and the only one taking notes
is a waitress keeping tabs.

Serve enough pitchers of beer and some 
guy will think he’s Einstein and a woman
may get lit enough to think she’s Poet Laurette 
of the bathroom wall. 

There’s a lot of problems at The Sticky Pony,
but Solving didn’t pass the I.D. check
with the bouncer at the front door. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWrMo Day 16


 

Monday, April 14, 2025

Sisters of the Crazy Life


Through cigarette smoke
I can see every yesterday
blush her cheeks sassy. 

Bold pearls on her ears,
turquoise rings on her fingers
decorate her audacity 
to be herself in the AARP chase
to assign her a tombstone. 

Livin’ La Vida Loca
blasts from a speaker
in the background
in bright colored notes.

Neither of us speaks,
but we communicate through a stare.
She dares me to be a rebel…
I reply with a wink, “I already am.”

As fast as it appeared the
magic in rhythm and haze dissipates. 
She turns to order tequila.
I walk out with a match I’ll never burn.

©Susie Clevenger 2025

NaPoWriMo Day 14


 

Monday, April 7, 2025

Little Shrines and Madness


Hello…

“We’re all mad here. You’re mad. 
You must be or you wouldn’t be here.”
Cheshire Cat- Alice in Wonderland. 

I have poetry books
in every room, formed,
deformed, hardback,
paper, from Edgar Allan Poe
to my scribblings. 

There’s not a day that goes
by I don’t hollow out a space
in my ribs for another poem.

When I think about it, my
poetry collections are little
shrines because there’s
always a candle close, some
incense, and a prayer for
a bit of talent to slip into my ink. 

I skip prayers when
It comes to poetry forms.
Most of the time when
I attempt to write one it feels
like I’m forcing myself
into a push up bra that’s
never going to work. 

Oh,
 and those 
shrine rooms
have no mirrors.
I do enough digging inside
 myself reading and scribbling
 I don’t need to peer into glass 
to see my madness. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025


NaPoWriMo ~ Day 7


 

Saturday, April 5, 2025

Chasing Nightmares to Feel a Dream


She has lipstick eyes
and plastic intentions. 

The blood of her days
living on erased has
her chasing nightmares
to feel a dream.

Before 2022 she had
the right to choose
her body’s direction.
Today it’s been sharpied
into the decision of men.

No one asked her.
No one gave her the choice
to decide if a God without Jesus
or no god at all had the 
right to force her to live by
a faith or plan that had
outsourced compassion. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025


#NaPoWriMo Day 5