1 poem
by sandra lindow
tuesday morning yoga
The windows are open,
smell of lilacs on the breeze;
the windows are open,
Mountain Pose,
clouds of music and soft chanting;
the windows are open
Downward Dog to Plank,
Upward Dog to Cobra,
Saluting the Sun,
the windows are open;
Pose of the Child,
sticky mat beneath me,
the windows are open.
My daughter calls from California
her first job,
the windows are open;
an unfurnished apartment;
she sleeps on the floor;
the windows are open;
her futon blocks our rec room;
the windows are open;
a lump on her breast,
a view of the mountains,
breathe in, breathe out,
Proud Warrior,
core muscle challenge;
the windows are open.
My radiator is broken;
coolant drips slowly;
the windows are open,
hazy green ponds
reflecting beneath;
the windows are open.
My mother needs memory care;
the windows are open;
she lives in a cloud of nowness;
the windows are open,
the past leaking silently away;
the windows are open;
the windows are
all
open.
Sandra J. Lindow
lives on a hilltop in Menomonie, Wisconsin. She teaches, writes, and edits. Her poetry can be found at Blue Heron Review, Strange Horizons, Riddled by Arrows and Gyroscope Review. Presently she is guest editor of two electronic magazines: Bramble, sponsored by the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets and Eye to the Telescope, sponsored by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association.