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Friday, November 11, 2016

Iced Mint Mocha

I didn’t feel it coming
It caught me by surprise
I just wanted a cup of coffee
I faced the barista
A young man with brown skin
Our gaze met
I tried to say the words
Iced mint mocha
They wouldn’t come
My throat closed
I pointed at the sign
Saw the words
Iced mint mocha
I made a sound
A strange gurgle
Like a sick primate
Met his gaze again
He watched my
tearful eruption
Not at all surprised
that the words
Iced mint mocha
were so hard
for me to utter.
Room for cream?
I nodded, paid, tipped,
and walked away.
Quietly ugly crying
swiping my cheeks
sipping on my bitter
Iced mint mocha.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

This morning

     My artist friends have been saying we must use our work to move forward. I don't feel ready to do that, I feel swallowed and paralyzed. But I heard them and I trust them. And this poem came a few minutes ago. So I post it here. It is my first step I guess. I have nothing else to offer.

This Morning

Tis the anniversary of Kristallnacht.
Crystal Night.
Named for the sound of glass breaking.
The very sound we expected to hear last night.
The very sound we deserved to hear last night.
The very sound we should have heard last night.
It was supposed to have been
a vast glass ceiling cracking,
showering us with shimmering shards
of progress, equality, decency.
We did not get that.
Instead this morning we hear 
only the echo
of the other breaking glass.
Crystal night.
People hiding in the dark,
seeking safety, not knowing
who or what is safe.
Having nothing left but prayer,
though maybe now you do not pray
the right way.
Listen for the breaking glass.
It may not be your window today.
But you should be listening,
and you should be afraid.
This will be a long

Crystal Night.

Tammi Truax 
Nov 9, 2016