Two Poems by Diane Webster

GOT TO GET OUT

The underground parking lot
screams in echoes
from top to bottom
in screeching curves
round and round
in a spiraling vortex
of constant wind
swirling down the drain
below the street to seep
like earthworms crawling
to the surface drowning
with seashell roar
rushing against current.

HAZE OF ALMOST

Every morning she graces
her front porch steps
with voluminous flows and folds
of summer nightgown
as she orgasmically smokes
her first cigarette of the day;
as night’s chill escapes
the concrete slab beneath
her bed-warm buttocks
and would purr like a November cat
curled up on a fireplace lap
so silent and still except
for the hand-to-lip ritual
exhaled like her dreams
in a haze of almost remembrance.

For 30 years Diane Webster has worked in a newspaper office. She enjoy drives in the mountains and looking for poetry ideas in everyday life. Her work has appeared in "The Common Ground Review," "The Hurricane Review" "Philadelphia Poets" and other literary magazines.