Raynette Eitel Poems

Year by year I feel youth escaping
from my pores,
leaving behind this wrinkled flesh
and old songs flaking across my parched lips.
...

The clock no longer ticks
But pounds past each minute
Each hour
Each morning and night
...

The soft percussive sound of your wings
beating on high as they head into
the blue infinity of sky…
...

The fields near Salinas still hold
Steinbeck’s spirit within the cold fog
wrapping row after row of curly artichokes,
workers bent as they harvest the crops.
...

Only between heartbeats
and wave beats,

only as a quiet fog
...

When she began her ballad,
an invisible torch melted her words,
slurring sex into sultry sounds.
...

Across the years you came to me
singing sugared memories of summer
And the pristine frosting of our youth.
...

The woods are silent in a winter sleep.
Snowflakes gather in a great hush,
Pale notes heaped quietly one upon another
And gently.
...

I do not know this place,
Yet memories stir silent shadows.
Sunlight presses golden droplets
In an old familiar way.
...

It is nearly impossible
to know which comes first,
dream or fugue.
...