Posts by Frederick Meyer
Aunt Joan
My aunt is disappearing along with all the small talk, the old stories the laughs… Sometimes, when I visit her eyes flash for an instant with an old light before…
Read MoreCome Back
in your hospital gown bleached gray as an old dog’s beard, the robe hanging from the anvil of your back, gnarled feet in paper slippers. I’ll float you away on…
Read MoreWhile my Mother Dreams of Judge Judy
I dream, too. In this dream, Judy’s rage ruffles the quiet cut-outs of her collar. Madame! she shouts at the teen mother whose boyfriend’s Pitbull bites. First the boyfriend and…
Read MoreBeach Walk
I watched the surfers this morning. A ballet of arrowheads floated over jade glass, Cormorants as audience dove alongside. They remind me of the Bongo Board, mom balanced barefooted in…
Read MoreFaces
My granddaughter’s eyelashes are arcs of fringe at the edge of her lids as she stares down at a sheet of paper, her right hand, intent on capturing the two…
Read MoreTo Magic
Every mother dreams of the day her daughter gets married. She prays it’s to a man that will love her with all his heart. A man who will take on…
Read MoreBefore a Honolulu Sunset
Every evening, my father strolled along the Ala Wai canal before dinner. Once, during a visit, he leaned over and whispered, I have a surprise. Accompanied by the scent of…
Read MoreStick Figures
12Grandmother. Ten years old and I’m kneeling on the carpet next to her. She smells like flowers with English Garden names: peony, jasmine, narcissus; she smells like black and white…
Read MoreWith a Bang
—with a bang—the hairy flower wild petunia—flings its tiny seeds—sudden and far—how and why—the scientist—kneels down—clamps a metal band—on a pigeon’s leg—her initials—and i.d. number—my broken toe—x-rayed, recorded—at the Bleecker…
Read MoreDESCENDING
glow leaves of autumn —gold afternoon— I thought first electric lights against a purple rain-swollen sky while a drizzle lit by that same gap in clouds shines down On Lha…
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