Two poems by Marianne Szlyk

Mercurial 

By Marianne Szlyk

She imagines being the one left behind
as she gazes past the empty pond.

The not yet frozen surface hides
mud and murk that remain from fall.
 
She throbs as if with the ache that won’t
change as snow sticks to matted grass 

then melts as grass springs up spiky
flowers bloom and then snow blows in.  

She prefers to be mercurial, shifting not 
staying, not writing from stillness
 
as sun and seasons, wind and weather
move on from the mud and murk

like the one who is always leaving.




Ms. Hawthorn
 
dreams of standing on a ridge in Britain, 
looking down on cathedrals and car parks, 
on pubs and Morris dancers ,
albums she knew from 
used record stores and 
long-lost friends’ collections.  
 
Dirty blonde hair 
streaming in the wind,
she would be barefoot, 
wear white, in spite 
of mud and wet grass.
 
At fifty, she sits in traffic.  
Through mousy- brown bangs,
she blinks at mist 
falling on her windshield, 
the line of cars 
snaking on past the exit.
 
As violins on the CD swell, 
a young man sings 
about growing older
on a morning like this one.  
He has just arrived in town;
she has lived in this state 
for a dozen years
or more.


​

 About the author: Marianne Szlyk is a professor at Montgomery College and the editor of The Song Is... Recently, she published her second chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, with Flutter Press. Her first (Listening to Electric Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven) is available for free here: http://barometricpressures.blogspot.com/2014/10/listening-to-electric-cambodia-looking.html . Her poems have appeared in Long Exposure, Poppy Road Review, Of/with, bird's thumb, Cacti Fur, Five2One Magazine's #thesideshow, Contemporary American Voices, Jellyfish Whispers, Napalm and Novocaine, Silver Birch Press, and other online and print venues including Kind of a Hurricane Press' anthologies.  She hopes that you will stop by The Song Is... at http://thesongis.blogspot.com/ .

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