“It came,” “Dropping in” and “Playing with Metaphor”

“It came,” “Dropping in” and “Playing with Metaphor”

“It came,” “Dropping in” and “Playing with Metaphor”

It came

It came rustling through the mangrove forest

howler monkeys with their megaphone voices

heard long before seen swinging through trees

on sweltering Costa Rica mornings

the pacific surf came rolling

sometimes pounding and sometimes

playfully lapping the black volcanic sands

It came crunching up the pebbled drive

on giant tires of the backcountry jeep

It came relentlessly – the end

of wearing bright pink lipstick and flirty skirts

of late nights with Sangria

she pulled the shades up

saw nothing out of place

the papaya tree hung

a display of ripening fruit

coconuts had fallen to the ground

she knew it was coming

no need for candle-lit lanterns in the garden

no need for folks to shout SURPRISE

Dropping in

I drop in for a taste of your broth

crusty sourdough bread

salt rim margaritas glasses

under the blue sky

of friendship

I tell you

that I used to thrive

in pews of incensed churches

lifted up by kyrie eléison

but that was years ago

I tell you

that these days

I doodle in waiting rooms

breathe the air of sickness and healing

hope to be offered

a 7-day capsule

a simple solution

I tell you

about the white-frocked expert

whose eyes

like those of stained-glass saints

can’t be escaped

my sleeves rolled up

I watch and wait

and wait

without the hallelujah choir

singing Salve Regina Salve

over drinks you listen and say

you’ll be fine

drop in anytime

Playing with Metaphor

His eyes were sunshine

my eyes pooling rain drops

together we were morningdew

moonbeams searching the dark

the torch of peace in the night

cascades of wisteria in purple and white

we were yoke and withers

trotting together to unseen commands

we reveled in each other’s goodness

costumed for the ball of our lives

god and goddess frolicking

parting waters weathering fire and ice

About the Author

Christa Lubatkin

Though she has not had her fill of mountain trails, of late, Christa has settled for lesser walks. She finds her time caring for her husband a difficult and satisfying part of her life now. Her most satisfying work has been as a hiking guide through wonderful landscapes both here and abroad. Her poetry has appeared in the beautiful pages of The Write Launch as well as Haunted Waters Press, Cathexis Northwest, Beyond Words and a Willowdown Books anthology and others.

Read more work by Christa Lubatkin.