Beginning and End

Forty years ago
she knew, she
knew it in her heart
and soul and brain
just what she wanted
and she did it. When
she did, the earth did not
stop spinning as a sign
that she was bad, the earth
did not start moving as a sign
that she was good
(that would come later).
And a few days after
when she did it
once or twice again
and said that she felt
married, it was true.
But when they heard the
car door slam outside,
they stopped,
and then he left,
and that was it.
One weekend out of
two millenium,
the end and the beginning
lay entwined but
they were unaware.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Go for It

Not as smart
Not as pretty
Not as thin
Not as witty
Not as chic
or erudite
Not as sharp
or Aphrodite
Not as published
Not as rich
Not as sexy
as that bitch
who has it all.

Apparently
she has it all
except for you.

Pursue this
goddess if she's
what you think
you want or even
if she's who you
want to think about.

But if instead
you just want love,
know this:
In all the universe,
you are the hand,
and I, alone,
the glove that
is a perfect fit.




(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Adam's Orchard

Ten trees in Israel,
an orchard thriving
in dark soil enriched by
blood and tears, the roots
entwining underground
with those of others planted
to remember, honor, grieve
the children of the Holocaust.
The ten are there for them,
of course, but even more,
for Adam. In Israel, his
trees do what he couldn't
do himself: sink roots deep
enough that heaven couldn't
pull him up so easily, to
grow from sapling to adult.
His trees beneath the
desert sun have had the time
he was denied, to grow up
strong and tall, a haven
for the birds and bugs,
providing shade for
someone who is weary,
there to rest. And maybe
tired strangers take the time
to read his name upon a little
plaque and pause to give
a blessing, thanking God
for someone who was loved
and is and is to come.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

The Jewish National Fund plants trees in Israel for soil conservation, but also as a way to honor loved ones. It's a fun way to celebrate births and marriages, a meaningful way to honor those who have passed away. See more at www.jnf.org.

Semper Fi

Strung out on Mountain Dew and pills
the doctor gave him for his back,
a soldier home for several years
but in his eyes,
a pain that radiates and emanates from
things he's seen and done that's
deeper than the herniated discs.
Unhappy with his life,
realities that didn't fit the expectations
of "a few good men" ads
that he saw that time with her
back then.
      What was that movie? 
      Where is she now? 
      What was her name again?
His thinking's muddled,
has been for some time, before
or after the explosion, he's not sure.
It hardly matters.
Morgan Automotive will repair
his car, a surgeon will (one hopes) repair
his back in June. I wish my smile
and conversation had come laced with pixie dust,
jacked up on magic or a miracle,
a Mountain Dew of energy, enhanced,
delaying the inevitable crash.
unless somewhere there may be found
repair for all the damages remaining
in a soldier's soul.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Full of Ginger

Not a recent picture, but
she's kept her figure.

She's getting old, accustomed to the couch,
but needs the exercise, and when I offer,
off we go, and walk awhile until we're hot,
then find a pond to sit by in the shade.
I can see that she remembers other days,
when all she saw for miles, it seemed, was
grass to run through, roads to race her friend.
She stayed outside for hours back when running
fast was easy, when she was a farm dog
full of ginger. Full of life.

I'm getting older, I'll admit, and like to sit
myself at times, but plan to be around awhile,
so make myself get up and out, and move and stretch
and sweat, sometimes with Angel, sweet, old,
once-upon-a-time farm dog at my side. She watches me
as I sit and look out over the pond and drink in the
heat of sun and breeze, and sees that I remember, too,
those days I played outside for hours.
Running fast was easier.
I'm full of ginger, still.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Rain Fantasy

It's warm tonight (the air cut on
just now) but still I opened up the door
to let the sound of rain intrude
upon the quietness and loneliness
of empty rooms and spaces
where so much was once
contained. If everyone would
only stay inside their houses,
keep away from windows where
they'd catch a glimpse and gasp
in shock (or laugh and stare), if
they would promise, cross my heart
and hope to die, wild horses couldn't
make them look, I'd love
to sneak outside beneath a
cloud-kissed moon, no barriers
between me and the drops,
a shower such as Eve once knew.
Unlike the Queen of Eden
I would be alone...but surely not.
For if I'm dreaming of a naked
stroll down empty streets why
can't I dream of standing still
beneath the moon and holding
hands with you? It's not
as if
it ever
will be
true.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Jack and the Moon

http://davids-pics.blogspot.com/2007/09/moon-watching.html

It's never been like this before,
alone with Jack, the moon is full
and she is naked in the water
and it's hot. If she could be
in salty ocean waves, she'd
laugh and jump and swallow
foam but she is here with Jack
and it is hot, and she has taken
off her clothes and feels the jets
ignite against her skin but
it's not near enough. So dark,
no bugs because a breeze
is gently kissing earth. She needs a
kiss, she needs a touch,
Jack cannot do enough
for her, the moon cannot,
she is alone. The water
feels so good, but Jack is
gone. The glass is empty,
as the night is empty.
But her heart is full,
a reinvention of herself
that has no need of
company
until



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015