Francie Lynch Poems

What have you sold?
Was it worth its weight in gold?
A votive lit for fifty cents,
A flame announcing you repent;
...

The local storm warning finds me on the porch,
Out the back, observing the strength of wind,
The swag of trees.
The eye of the storm is passing overhead,
...

I really don't like the idea of growing old.
Don't patronize me with the alternative.
You know squat about that.
There's the smell of bleach and piss,
...

I'm told the sky is blue.
God is dead.
Lead is heavier than cotton.
I'm not convinced I know where the sky starts.
...

I'm taunted by another,
Allured by the attention
Polishing vanity to a reflective glaze
Like the winner's cup, help up by the ears
...

For all you've done and said,
The care and understanding,
All the unsaid and undone
Makes my response sound trite.
...

When I was a child, I was told to be good,
We were never the most amazing children ever born from the loins of mortals.
We tried to please and be good. Compliments were scarce, but not unnoticed.
...

Call us perverted,
But read on first,
Then, by the end,
After our verse,
...

I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In an east coast storm,
With generations telling tales
While sipping on their drinks.
...

When I turned the key on the house
I anticipated my return.
A protracted absence ensues.
The air behind is trapped, absorbed my everything.
...