When the Snow Began
The paper smock
in its new blouse length
rested stiffly on my shoulders
skimming my back
crinkling as I folded my arms
to close it and await my mammogram
Outside the dressing area
nurses joked about snowball fights
I pictured white dots
flurrying to fill dark spaces
until the diagonal stripes
on the curtain door
jarred me back
to wonder
if I was diseased
or not
Lying in Summer
There is nothing better—
lying beside you in this summer night
with moths tapping softly at the screen
the old neighbors’ slow footsteps
across their wooden porch
the squeak and kerplunk of their door
A motorcycle’s vroom starts down our street
my friend must be passing it
alone in her car
following a road I’m too familiar with—
escaping the scene of someone else’s happiness
The motorcycle passes us
its roar thins to silence
I snuggle closer to you
chilled by the memory of those lone years
even in this heat
© Marie Gray Wise
Marie Gray Wise is a retired English teacher living in Mount Laurel, New Jersey. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in I-70 Review, Post Road, Tipton Poetry Review, English Journal, U. S. 1 Worksheets, The Café Review, Naugatuck River Review, Grey Sparrow, and The Paterson Literary Review.
The Loch Raven Review 