The Moya View

Tag: memories

  • Opening Her White Parasol

    Opening Her White Parasol

    With the push of a button, the delicate porcelain releases lace ribs from the handle- little dove wings- shading her dreams, memories of father, creating this object to protect her from the shriveling sun.

  • An Endless Telephone Call

    An Endless Telephone Call

    I knew this pulse had traveled thru spacewith a shivery speedto reach this felt sole,these five yards of ancient twisted wires that gave it sound-striking its bell three times in mournful was too early to hear the good news of friends.Yet, even not quite awake,I knew between the sounds of hello and goodbye my…

  • She Supposes

    She Supposes

    She supposes a life beyond this wooden bench,this windswept summer day, this clear blue bay with fur seals mewling on the distant rocks.What will her husband, father, kids do if she dies? Nearby, a boy and girl are playing in the sandy grass.Just watching, a father and son, on another bench,we’re talking sports, memories of…

  • Going Up the Stairs She Heard

    Going Up the Stairs She Heard

    She heard her children going slowly up the stairs of the old grand house draped in linen solitude. On the peacock treadsthey chanted discoveries,whispered mysteries she intimately knew.

  • Walking Along the Seashore Without My Mother

    Walking Along the Seashore Without My Mother

    The old negative of her with her hair pinned backI hold up to the horizon and see it fade into the waves.It was the one taken through the filtered window of her black car,her face half in night and half in day.Behind, I hear the echo of the sand cave.In front, the roar of swirl…

  • Pact


    I make a pact with my younger other self, my familiar in the crosswalk, the boy staring back not longing to be me,wondering where all that nice black hair went in our shadowed time and unwanted trusts, vows not to be our parents and just our mirrored selves. In spite of me/to spite me he…