I must not wake my wife.



At night the doors of the master suite are positioned for the morning’s dance:
the closet door full open, the bathroom door ajar, the room door closed tight.



In the wee hours I must execute my morning routine without a bump, without a squeak, without a light shining through.



I must not wake my wife; I must not.



I arise in darkness and tiptoe to the closet, balancing on the nightlight’s narrow beam. I close the door gently gently, and turn on the light. I dress without a peep; each article, one after the other, in perfect order.



I must not wake my wife or I will pay, I will pay.



I turn off the light and open the door wide; no bump, no thud, no squeak in the night. I tiptoe into the bathroom and gently gently close its door. I turn on the light and in silence shave, and brush, and comb in a morning blur.



I must not wake my wife or I will pay. Pay I will; I must not wake my wife.



When all is done, the shirt is tucked neat, the seams aligned, I stand up straight and check my smile in the mirror. I must now get through the last door.



I must not wake her, I really really must not. She will make me pay, pay I will.



I turn off the light and creep into the bedroom. In darkness I tiptoe and feel along the wall, find the last door, and reach down to the knob.



I must not wake my wife. I must not wake my wife, or I will pay, I will pay, like yesterday and the day before. A test of our marriage, I say, a test it is.



Slowly I turn; gently I pull. She murmurs and rolls. She’s awake. She’s awake!
With my back to her and my eyes closed, I can see her arms out-stretched.



She softly calls, “Oh loverboy! Close the door! Come to me my loverboy!”
I’ll be late for work again.
 

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Brian Sullivan is a Technical Writer working in the Boston area.

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In solitude,
noise from the street outside
shut out by window panes
the plant in a quiet corner
thrives

spills from its stand
a cascade of colour, spreads
green over warm polished boards
grateful for water
I give

blossoms bask in sun by day
close by night to save
strength enough for tomorrow’s display
tell me somehow still to find
a corner of my own
I will

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Robin V. Herrnfeld has spent most of her adult life in Germany, although American born and raised.  Always an avid reader and interested in writing, she has started writing short fiction herself. Most recently she has been trying her hand at poetry. http://www.writewords.org.uk/r_vherrnfeld/

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Shelley White has a Certificate in Creative Writing from Lancaster University. Some of her stories and poems have been published in the book, ‘Health Matters’ (2008) and in the magazines Aware, The Pygmy Giant and Scribblers on the Roof.  Shelley tweets at www.twitter.com/haikumad

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It nearly reaches my lips

My favorite Addiction

Lights flare up behind me

I palm the highway contraband

No one cares at home

Indulge till you’re plastered

But here it’s a crime

 

It slips in the glove box

As I pull out my papers

Proof I’ve paid dues

Will he even care?

 

My face is askew

Still wearing midnite sins

I beckon a tear

Unbutton some more

Men cave for tears and tits

 

Maybe he didn’t notice

My illegal activity

Or the swerving car

Is it on my record

That it’s not my first time?

 

The window rolls down

He leans in beside me

Shakes his head sternly

He knows my naked face

 

Only one more warning

And hand over the stuff

Goddamn you I say

Though relief trumps anger

 

He takes Addiction and Potion

My two favorite lipsticks

No more makeup while driving

 

 

 

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Allie Dresser http://musingsalongelectricavenue.blogspot.com/

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I wrote a poem on a plane ticket

as I flew home from your wedding.



It was a brilliant piece; it sang

of your accomplishments



and even kissed the bride near the end.

Funny, now I can’t find it



among the lone stocking, and the old

hand mirror your sister left on my pillow.



I think she wanted me to take a good look.

I glance into the silvered glass,



disgusted by the dark circles around my eyes

and the small wrinkles etching my smile.



You are on a different plane headed to a

another life with a new girl. The plane



ticket in your pocket’s free from poetry,

no magic words to sing your praises.



Someone is walking through the airport

with my poem in his pocket. Someone



who likes what he read enough to steal it,

to be perhaps, the person



in the poem I always wanted you to be.

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Stacy Post is a librarian and mother residing in the flatlands of Indiana.  Her third grade teacher taught her how to write haiku when she couldn’t sit still.  (Thank you, Mrs. Harris!)  She credits her grandfather, who recited poetry whenever she sat on his lap, for giving her the ear for wordplay.  She has been in love with language ever since.  She earned a Bachelor’s degree in English from Purdue University and a Master’s of Library Science from Indiana University.  She has worked in public libraries for the last ten years. Her previous publications include: Purdue Exponent, Skylark, Haiku Headlines and the Indianapolis Star as a community blogger.  In 2009, she won a haiku contest on the blog, Gumbo Writer, and has work forthcoming in various online publications.  You can find her unique point of view at: www.stacypost.blogspot.com

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Morning peers back at us
drowsy through the kitchen window
sun not quite up
scrambles for its seat
a game of musical chairs
but the moon never wins

Catch the laughter
in our coffee mugs
sip warm thoughts
sweetened with desire
two hearts beat in rhythm
to the sounds of stirring spoons

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Amy Corbin has been published in filling Station, The Cynic, Ascent Aspirations, Shine, Every Day Poets, Every Day Fiction, Haruah: A Breath of Heaven, Ignavia Press,  Flask and Pen,The Battered Suitcase, Flashes in the Dark, Short Story Library, and Smokebox.  She will soon be published in Boston Literary Magazine.  Amy is currently a slush reader at EDP.

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I made the gods into bone

dolls, with hollow eyes

and they danced around fire

with witches made of straw inside

we gave them prostrated meat

until there was nothing

laughter

in a winter, now here, I heard

prayers which sounded like crying

and mistook complacence for

salvation, visiting me like a cramp

just let go of thought and drown

or float

there is no heaven

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Alex Franco studies Written Arts and French at Bard College, in upstate New York,  but his heart is in the south. He can be reached at af6329@bard.edu.

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Caged, locked by fear,

leaves me isolated, insulated,

insincere.

Regret slices my soul

into chunks of sorrow,

knowing I’m my own warden.

A plea to Goddess Kali

for blackness; coldness;

release.

Blissfully,

sans teardrops of rage,

effects cascade, decisions fade.

In my last, I’m cast free.

I’ve won; I’ve lost.

I’ve made my escape.

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David Siegel Bernstein lives within the shadow of Philadelphia in Elkins Park, PA.  To support his writing addiction and excessively extravagant lifestyle, he consults as a forensic statistician.  His poetry has been published in numerous literary and genre magazines, including Paper Crow, MindFlights, Aphelion, Wanderings, Down in the Dirt, Liquid Ohio, Fear and Trembling, Revealing All your Dirty Little Secrets, and we the Poets. His fiction has appeared has been published in numerous print, podcast, and online magazines. He also serves on the board of directors for the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference and is co-chair of the Words-in-Progress writers group.

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A primal urge
like a newborn’s
need to suckle
or a dried out plant’s
thirst for water
craving a simple thing
leaves me inconsolable
I’ve lost my clothes
and cannot find them
this desire for your kiss
makes the moon
more beautiful
but the stars
feel farther away

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Amy Corbin has been published in filling Station, The Cynic, Ascent Aspirations, Shine, Every Day Poets, Every Day Fiction, Haruah: A Breath of Heaven, Ignavia Press,  Flask and Pen,The Battered Suitcase, Flashes in the Dark, Short Story Library, and Smokebox.  She will soon be published in Boston Literary Magazine.  Amy is currently a slush reader at EDP.

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Welcome to the February 2010 line-up for Every Day Poets. We have poets waxing – well – poetic on romance as our homage to St. Valentine’s Day. Tucked in between the sheets are snippets of humor for those of you less inclined to dip your sentiments in syrup.

February is about more than St. Valentine’s Day, of course. We did not make a poetic link to all February observances, but managed to hit a few. The month begins with writer Langston Hughes’ birthday. Since we had no poetry about Langston Hughes, we honored writers in general with David Siegel Bernstein’s, “The Emancipation of Sylvia Plath”. February 2 observes both Groundhog Day and Candlemas, neither of which brought out any predilection for targeted verse among our poets, so we jumped in with Alex Franco’s, “Pagan Feast.” From there, we romance, contemplate, and laugh our way beyond mid-February into the Chinese New Year with TL Payne’s, “Mandarin Moon”. A’keith Walters’, “Taxi Money”, may cause Mardi Gras revelers to consider how much they will need to atone for on Ash Wednesday. The rest of the month is a mixed bag of images and observations that offer up something, hopefully, for everyone.

We are not the only ones who have something to offer this month. Please check out The Best of Every Day Fiction Two, a collection of 100 flash fiction pieces from Every Day Fiction’s second year of publication. It’s delectable.

And now for our selections…..as always, enjoy. Share. And, if you write, consider submitting your very best poetry under 500 words to Every Day Poets.

- Kathleen Cassen Mickelson, Editor and Slush Reader

A word from Oonah Joslin, Managing Editor: New Submissions System

As of February 1, we have a new submissions system operating at EDP.  It is the same system that has been used at EDF for the past several months.

For our contributors, it means:
- You won’t have to type the same profile information in every time you want to submit a story.
- You can track the status of your poems.

This is an open ID system, but I am assured that it is perfectly secure (as a contributor to EDF myself).  It is very easy to use and we hope to see all our regular contributors as well as many new friends.

Thank you to everyone for making EDP such a success!

February’s Table of Contents

Feb 1	David Siegel Bernstein	The Emancipation of Sylvia Plath
Feb 2	Alex Franco	Pagan Feast
Feb 3	Amy Corbin	Morning Coffee
Feb 4	Stacy Post	Lost & Found
Feb 5	Allie Dresser	Addiction and Driving
Feb 6	Shelley White	Aunt Agatha’s Handbag
Feb 7	Robin V. Herrnfeld	Resolution
Feb 8	Brian Sullivan	Dancing With the Doors
Feb 9	Catherine Edmunds	(untitled haibun)
Feb10	Douglas Pugh	Garden of Dreams
Feb11	Stephanie E Manning (Australia)	Majesty of Shooting Stars
Feb12	Nick Bowman	Sea Shanty
Feb13	Ben Langhinrichs	Gran’s Wisdom
Feb14	Nicky Phillips	Thoughts Across the Ocean
Feb15	TL Payne	Mandarin Moon
Feb16	A’keith Walters	Taxi Money
Feb17	Richard M. O’Donnell	The Photograph
Feb18	Jeff Jeppesen	Snapshots
Feb19	Michael D. Turner	Chupacabra Go Home
Feb20	Barry Napier	Cars Left Abandoned On Friday Night
Feb21	Lindsey Duncan	Dreamweavers
Feb22	Linda Simoni-Wastila	Monday morning before the garbage truck comes
Feb23	Rumjhum Biswas	I Am That Is You
Feb24	Michelle Lin	Talking to Dead Poets
Feb25	Nick Weingartner	George #3
Feb26	William Dexter Wade	Fibonacci Paean
Feb27	Magdalen	Distant Wavelengths
Feb28	Divya Rajan	Tonight

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