Thank you to Editors Stacia Lynn Reynolds and Nilavronill Shoovro of Our Poetry Archives (OPA) for publishing my three poems in the October issue.

ARE SAMPLE IN REGRET

Are sample in regret,

I never found out what this meant.

These oft-repeated words,

whether a question or an order,

I could not tell.

The chaos of dementia was so embedded

the strain between word and thought,

so unraveled,

with only a single thread remaining between.

Words still stood as words

and not garbled sound

but, their context was distorted.

So, each day,

I always answered in a different way,

hoping one of my responses

would satisfy whatever she was wanting to hear.

INTENDED KING MOST DEADLY

One man killed the Archduke,

and set in motion

the fall of nations and empires.

All took sides.

Ideologies were questioned, defended, defeated.

Four years of death, destruction,

most terrible,

with all manner

of bitterness at the ending.

And so was birthed

the outgrowth of something

so heinous 21 years out

in a tiny, central, European country.

One century later,

There’s still deep wounds that will not heal,

trusts that cannot be regained,

peace not to be seen between some nations.

All because one man killed not one man,

but 66 million or more.

THE PALETTE OF MY EYES

White, snow-packed streets of winter

dazzle with morning bright.

Seas of aqua green

fade to indigo,

as the sun sets against a sky

of purple, then black.

And the stars poke through

as grand gifts bequeathed by angels.

The brown bark of monumental trees

dressed with green skirts of soft moss.

Fields of sunflowers, lavender,

and roses red,

stand above the ground.

The clear tears of the unsighted

move my hand

to raise my heart’s paintbrush

against their pain.

Let them see the sea’s mystique,

the sky’s majesty,

and the seedlings’ triumph.

When I no longer breathe,

let some surgeon help another

have the palette of my eyes.

LINDA IMBLER