R&R
Susan Charkes
they’re gone, shells and all –
the peanuts I’d lined up on the deck railing
where the squirrel had posed paws-up, tail flicking
like a hanky, eyes locking mine through the window,
then scrabbling over the fence as I pushed open
the screen door, diving into the tangle of vines
at the rear of the yard, till I’d gone back in
and it was safe to return, not as a coquette
but an outlaw, scuttling
down the steps where we’d huddled,
side against side in the soft night
you lighting one cigarette after another
your eyes glowing amber like the bomb-pocked
far-off desert drenched in chopper thunder,
hearing the siren’s call, the thumping thrall of rockets –
if only you’d settle for peanuts,
I could close the door
Susan Charkes
they’re gone, shells and all –
the peanuts I’d lined up on the deck railing
where the squirrel had posed paws-up, tail flicking
like a hanky, eyes locking mine through the window,
then scrabbling over the fence as I pushed open
the screen door, diving into the tangle of vines
at the rear of the yard, till I’d gone back in
and it was safe to return, not as a coquette
but an outlaw, scuttling
down the steps where we’d huddled,
side against side in the soft night
you lighting one cigarette after another
your eyes glowing amber like the bomb-pocked
far-off desert drenched in chopper thunder,
hearing the siren’s call, the thumping thrall of rockets –
if only you’d settle for peanuts,
I could close the door