Saturday, April 14, 2012

New Poetry by E.F. Schraeder

Ramona from Assisted Living

Tells us, the visitors, about yesterday’s emergency
outside work, where the ringing bells
remind us of death with every tone;
how a small girl wandered, an archetype
through a corn field. Text messages alert
hundreds who gather, hand in hand
for three hours walking the cold rows
long past sunset to find her.
Lost, like these ones we look over to talk,
while they slumber in wheelchairs,
tilt toward perpetual dusk
until a waiting hand finds them.

- E. F. Schraeder 2012

For the Birds

Every visit past the glass cage where
bright canaries and gray lovebirds nest,
their orange beaks pecking at straw and string,
I worry for them, watch the mindful cat on the cushion.
My concerns fall from the glass, collapse to the floor
like heaps of empty husks and seed shells.
They wait out their lives, pecking and sleeping,
chirping their stories to residents, visitors, nurses,
anyone who pauses long enough for hello.
Most pass them on the way to mothers and fathers,
grandmas and grandpas. They behave
like the framed prints on the wall,
unassuming and decorative,
overcrowded and sad,
small eyes looking for something not found.

- E. F. Schraeder

E. F. Schraeder's creative work has appeared in Haz Mat Review, Corvus Magazine, Bluepepper, Kicked Out, Whitechapel 13, and elsewhere.

1 comment:

Stuart Barnes said...

two great poems, e.f.
love 'ramona from assisted living':
echoes of sebold's the lovely bones
(imho, you're the better writer :))