Wildflower’s Performance Review

BY DEB KEANE

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I keep a schedule of appointments.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I submit paperwork electronically.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I restart my computer, then do it again.
Then again.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I calculate my quarterly productivity.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I check my retirement account.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I call IT about my computer, and then restart it again.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I forget my password.

A wildflower sways in the meadow,
I stare at the wall where a window could be,
imagine the sunshine,
imagine the grasses,
sway a little.

This Neighborhood is Mine

BY DEB KEANE

Walking my new neighborhood,
I see chickens
at the crossroads of [redacted] and [redacted].

I see flowering trees,
tulips and wandering vines
at every glance.

Little libraries,
green grass,
all these people strolling.

At the corner of [redacted] and [redacted],
I see Mother Earth herself
plump with her own love.

It feels years away–
the vandalism,
the break-in,
the gunshot,
the husband.

It’s only been a few miles.

I promise to keep my new address
a secret.

This new world is just for me,
where it’s safe.

Deb Keane (she/her) is the author of hundreds of daily poems. She simultaneously squirms at and strives for creative vulnerability in her everyday.