Eve Rounds

the fortune teller

a welcome humidity breaks through the seal of my skin
seeps into my soul
an onoff drizzle revives the resilience of my muscles
releases their restlessness

and off i go into the gray of focused conscious meditation

allowing dark ones to escape without a fight
the light arrives in torrents
the mirrors reflect an expansion of bright saturation
a self manifested destiny

aware only of my favorites
i can see now the words in poignant conversations of the distant future
i can hear now the thoughts of us as we grow older in wiser in happier
i am my own fortune teller
and fortunate
will be
and fortunate

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards


what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you


sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we


It isn’t easy being a twin.   Others considered us as one two-part person,  while our parents saw,  in our conspiring, four or more.