Elmo doesn’t laugh,
perched in a highchair, waiting
to be found again.

Copyright Emily Livingstone 2018
I lie here, looking
for the quiet in the noise.
The world goes, goes, goes
and people walk, shout,
cling, cry, soothe, laugh, and throw things.
When the world won’t stop
(and it never will, really)
take what you can get.
The flowers reach up
from the lively jungle,
grasping for the sun.
Studying the list,
seeking approved shades that won’t
burn our wond’ring eyes.
*
I did find some, finally. I definitely should’ve ordered sooner, but…I didn’t. Thanks, Museum of Science, Boston–I await the eclipse glasses! I know I haven’t written here in awhile. I will try to be better! I taught summer school last month and then was sick, and I’ve taken my spare moments for other writing projects. Hope all are enjoying the summer!
Pink trumpets, calling bees,
glowing with color, hiding
the abandoned nest.
Here’s the ball–where? Here!
Open–shut. No! And sitting
in a red wagon.
A blob vanishes
into a crack, and I freeze:
mouse in the house.
*
All hands–vacuum, scrub,
and jump at every shadow.
“Leave now,” I warn it.
Gathered, laughing, they
toast lost compassion, boasting
of a voting win.
While the rain comes down,
galoshes squelch in the muck,
and her laugh bursts out.
copyright Emily Livingstone 2017
Reading Robert Frost
in a sea foam room, chilled, still,
while the baby sleeps.