Three Poems by Diane Webster

Door of Captivity

Entering from summer sun
I am blind inside the entryway
and stop abruptly hoping no one else
dominoes my back side until
my vision returns enough
to venture further inside
the antique shop to see the old owner
smile in the knowledge
that if he had been a spider
this fly would have died in his parlor
so I smile too; safe I'd here his step
approach across creaking wooden floor
as I peer inside displays
and squint along crowded shelves
praying floorboards don't splinter
beneath my almost-tiptoe stealth
popping throughout the shop
almost feeling a slender hand
graze my shoulder or elbow,
"Can I show you anything, deary?"
as I escape to the brilliance outside
like a convict held in spotlight glare
in the door of captivity
whether inside or out.



Glass Stain Musings

Memories like grass stains
on white shoes return
in epiphany moments jogged
from life's clippings
as I hack through chores
until in a second
to catch my breath
I see grass stains
and remember sitting on the front steps
spitting watermelon seeds
farthest down the sidewalk
and wondering if Dad was right
if I swallowed a seed
I'd be pregnant.



Bridging Gaps

The bridge grasps the other side
like a trapeze artist clutching
a novice petrified to release
the bar securing her to one side
now stretched between
with no net below
just a yawning chasm
bored by the tiny drama,
confident the glacial movement
of its sides separating minutely
will break the hand hold,
tumble the bridge
into bottom rubble
where grass and trees
fill the cracks in between
with root systems bridging gaps.

Diane Webster enjoys the challenge of picturing images into words to fit her poems.  If she can envision her poem, she can write what she sees and her readers can visualize her ideas.  That's the excitement of writing.  Her work has appeared in "The Hurricane Review," "Eunoia Review," "Illya's Honey," and other literary magazines.