Sheila E. Murphy


Human Resources

The bland (I don’t mean you) lead though 
White dreams that open out on horizontal stage fright 
Qua meandering op cit cobbled streets 
Meant to rejuvenate a history of weeds. 

Dance equivocates idea of adagio 
Toward pommes frites and balderdash
Sung a cappella close to wind chimes
On hold assigned to translate breeze.

A furlong means capacity.
Think oxen taxed beyond their means 
The length of furrow to be plowed sans rest.
“What about me?” screams young breath

Enmeshed in pictographic narcissistic prance
Affording zilch the status of matter of course
Beneath hand-sewn midnight made to disorder
A wide gem light as we receive 

The rumored nets of gel turned papist sheers 
Left to wrinkle when plump precip- soaks in
To otherwise gentle hanging island bait
Reminding us the limbs of a bass instrument

Require informal ballet plus fragrance
Winnowing close to hard tack opposite of soft shoe
Drama swathed in limelight self-made joy riding
Through schema that never merely match

Within the realm of parsing parsnips laid out
On a table of raiment not quite full regalia
Astride monsoon’s own net-free jargon
Pronounced the same as voltage that recedes

Like uncle hair like knuckle balls thrown though
Not landed even close to the scoop sphere 
Called hole in one still numb from yet another 
Plaything called the unchained game. 



White Statue 

“Grief is love with no place to go.”
   -	Louise Penny

White statue curled sideways lies in snow
Blank face of the sky reminisces heart
Once known, now orphaned in devotion
Silence turns a whisper lodged within the throat

Blank face of the sky reminisces heart
Tall walls repeat themselves
Silence turns a whisper lodged within the throat
Fire has crispened the loved body to fine ash

Tall walls repeat themselves
Enclosure safens skin to warm near whiteness
Fire has crispened the loved body to fine ash
Eyesight drifts into a keyhole, shifts the dark

Enclosure safens skin to warm near whiteness
Cold butterflies linger in the mind
Eyesight drifts into a keyhole, shifts the dark
A zither of touch prints holds still

Cold butterflies linger in the mind
A small window frames early speech
A zither of touch prints holds still
No compass ever pure enough to pinpoint love

A small window frames early speech
I have forgotten nothing of your voice
No compass ever pure enough to pinpoint love
Selves are only tentative

I have forgotten nothing of your voice
Leaves and limbs kiss chilled glass
Selves are only tentative
I learn my way through assumed infinity

Leaves and limbs kiss chilled glass
Stamina gloves tender skin
I learn my way through infinity 
Lamentations fall to earth resisting light 

Stamina gloves tender skin
Once known, now orphaned in devotion
Lamentations fall to earth resisting light
White statue curled sideways lies in snow

Sheila E. Murphy's Wikipedia page is located at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheila_Murphy. Her home is in Phoenix, Arizona.

 
 

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