(Photo of Phil Huffy)
Archival footage from 1939--
Flushing Meadow, Trylon and Perisphere,
the imagined world of tomorrow,
steamlined, modern and clean.
Now, at her little table
I gently cut MotherÕs nails
knowing that it is the touch itself
not the trim which matters most.
They sneaked off to the City,
yet unhitched and scandalous.
Smooth skinned sweethearts, hand-in-hand
among the fedora-ed, skirted throngs.
IÕve sought old films and photos, searching.
(And technicolor newsreels, well preserved.)
Is that familiar pair among the crowd
where I can spy them, together again?
I have sometimes asked about the trip.
She said, once, they saw a robot who smoked
and bought popcorn to share while strolling.
I havenÕt mentioned my research.
first published by Magnolia Review
first published by Better Than Starbucks
A field hand upon
his corn husk pallet.
Legs a cruel joke,
of a painful past.
lending her soul as
she can, when she can,
with leftover kindnesses.
The radio, ever on
but hardly noticed
among farming sounds:
Livestock, tractor and truck.
All dangerous things.
which lurk each day
in this peaceful setting
as the field hand on his bed
knows all too well.
first published by Eunoia
Hornet, I have not a clue
why entry into my screened lair
so please calm down and stay out there.
Hornet, I do not offend
and have not bothered you at all
but see you doggedly attend
to bashing through my fabric wall.
Hornet, your behaviorÕs clear
and shows a fearsome, primal streak.
But youÕre outside and IÕm in here,
so go away. Come back next week.
© Phil Huffy
Bio: Phil Huffy had a long career not writing poetry. Now, he thinks on his feet and writes at the kitchen table. He is from upstate New York. Recent placements include Grey Sparrow, Former Cactus, Better Than Starbucks and 50 Word Stories.