Susan Marie Watkins Poems

It was the 2 a.m. phone calls
The denial
The fierce anger
Turned inward
...

monet's cat, marcel proust,
used to nap in the kitchen window
then jump down just like that
And tiptoe out to the garden,
...

rodin's cat sleeps contentely
amid the singing hammer blows
and dusty rubble of the atelier
but at night he awakens
...

gauguin's cat lived in neglect
amid the teeming emerald jungles of tahiti
she'd sleep alone on a broken chair in the corner
then jump down and stagger to the door
...

Butterflies & robins on a day of laughter & picnics,
New grass & the smell of freshly-turned earth
In the garden
Where memory, that hollow-eyed skull,
...

but mountains yes
mountains are like god
rippling in ancient jagged
saw-toothed pinnacles
...

The Thames, milky jade under a gray sky;
As Big Ben chimes &
Tennyson & Browning molder
Beneath their poet's slabs in Westminster
...

At night
van gogh’s cat hunts
beneath the swirling green flame
of a lone cypress
...

I'm light as a hollow-boned bird
Floating
Over misty forests & mossy glades
Where innocent brooks murmur
...

Love Is…

…a soaring pink void
Raw, black poison,
...