Francie Lynch Poems

I keep a private Scrapbook
You won't see on my shelf;
Stuffed with trivia from my life,
Known to no one but myself.
...

She clung to me like willow shade,
With one step I'm in the sun;
If my day got hot and hazy,
I knew where to run.
...

Four you already know,
But I can't, I won't,
Put them in writing... allegedly.
The Fifth is my favorite.
...

No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant,
and the small one a mouse.
Eve
...

If you were a book,
I'd read you again.

If you were a ride,
...

The twins came today.
They took their first breaths
On this first day of May.
Today, and all days,
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I saw him wince,
I saw no smile,
I saw the hurt
In his eyes.
...

Pop bottles. Boxes of them.
The old man brought them home.
He collected them on the construction site, between lifts.
Sometimes it would be days between lifts,
...

I'm pissed off with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote "Paradise Lost".
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
...

They carried us
Through gestation,
Or adopted
Without hesitation.
...