By Carol Parris Krauss
Saturday has trespassed Sunday. The errands, too numerous to name.
Some leapt the fence. Others scurried under the gate and charged into
the Sabbath. The piles: dark, light, and I can’t decide wait by the washer.
A sink full of dishes, an egg-crusted spatula waving the universal sign
of distress. The lawn half-mowed. Student essays on the bed, holding
my desk hostage. A script SOS smears the dining room table. This
homestead, this woman–we have moved from code yellow to red
in a split second. I can’t locate the troops to bugle them to the rescue.
No reinforcements to be found, to bolster fortifications. Defeated. All I
can muster is another glass of wine, a turn of the page, and a push-off
of the dirt dock for another afternoon sail in my hammock. My flag
of surrender gently swaying.
Tick Tock for Teachers
By Carol Parris Krauss
Tick.
My to-do list.
Check.
The dirty dishes.
List.
The Lesson plans.
Maintain.
The mowing.
Slash.
The grocery shopping.
Remove.
The bills.
Pen.
Student essays.
Tock.
My weekend.
Carol Parris Krauss enjoys using place/nature as theme vehicles. Her poetry can be found at– Louisiana Literature, Scrawl Place, The Skinny Poetry Journal, The South Carolina Review, Story South, and Broadkill Review. She was honored to be recognized as a Best New Poet by the University of Virginia Press. In 2021, she won the Eastern Shore Writers Association Crossroads Contest and her chapbook, Just a Spit Down the Road was published by Kelsay Books.
