Tag Archives: sapphic poetry

Introducting Scarlet Clover

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Introducing Scarlet Clover Publishers!

On Monday authors of Blue Feather Books, Ltd., received an email. The nearly decade-old publishing company is to be dissolved.

For me it was very sad news. A book company would be lost. On a personal note, I grieve for what made Blue Feather Books special – Emily Reed, and the staff of Blue Feather Books, cared. Em cared about the authors and about the readers.

Emily took a chance on my book about a sixty-year old woman finding romance in Appointment with a Smile. She took another chance on a book that was uncomfortable – it talked about two war. There were Hippies and a Concentration Camp – good and evil of life. Careful Flowers might have gone unpublished if not for Em. She is a hero to me, and I thank her and wish her the best.

I wish Em, and all the authors of BFB a happy future. Speaking of authors, and the world of publishing – there are so many magnificent women providing today’s Sapphic literature. I’m so very proud to be part of this ‘golden era’ of words.

Ann Bannon wrote a few books that changed many of our lives. Emily Reed reconstructed a publishing company – and gave so many of us an opportunity. Beth Mitchum created not only her own brilliant work, but she’s promoted women’s poetry and fiction with her amazing publishing company, Ultra Violet Love, and Sappho’s Corner Series.

Blazing the way in the enormity of Sapphic literature, these leaders have forced the best in us. As writers and as readers. Each book written makes a commitment to the future. So I thank all those who read and who write. I also thank the Reader – they support our cause.

For me there is no competition. I truly admire each of the publishing houses, and the authors. We all make one another better, and stronger. So let’s keep constructing words, and our love of the scrambled alphabet. I wish you all good fortune.

Monday, after reading the email that took a little part of my heart, I became determined to contribute in some way to Sapphic writing. I put a dream together in my mind. I’m a technologically imperiled. Uncertain how I could realize this dream, I talked with my mentor and dear friend, Beth Mitchum. She has always encouraged me. And that was when Scarlet Clover was born.

The name, Scarlet Clover – well, yes, it is after my dog, Clover. The scarlet part – well, I know that red clover comes in varieties. Scarlet (the most intensely red), crimson, and pink. My sister loves the Scarlet Clover.

Fields of Scarlet Clover are not bashful.

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April’s A’Tossing

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April is a’tossing all kinds of great emotional pleasures of the season. It does this every single year.

I really like Vita Sackville-West’s lines from “Spring,” The Garden. She says:
April the angel of the months, the young
Love of the year.

Hey, my bulbs are protruding through earth’s surface. Crocus, tulips and more dots of color. That’s good enough for me. Although I know there will be a little kick or two left from Winter – for the most part – it is a done deal. Mentally, I’ve got my garden planned and planted. My happiness is sprouting like fireworks on the 4th.

The birds are obviously every bit as delirious as I am. This morning they were having an April  sing-along. They make me smile – realizing that smile from the beginning to the end, as my lips curl.

Blossoms, clear skies with the warmth of sun and ‘can do’ attitudes become magical festivals.

I’ve always been sold on Spring. But there is a funny thing about having Colorado’s four seasons. Summer’s turn will find us standing in rows of fresh growth. There is the green herbal  of everything from dill to lavender. And Summer will thrill me.

After Summer is the Autumn bounty of harvest, and the magnificence of fall colors. Then there’s that moment’s rush when large, cleansing flakes of snow drift down. Winter.

Life is certainly a ‘Gee Whiz’ event. I’m glad that Spring has tossed us an April of simple heart pleasures. Those are the joys my life appreciates most.

While it may be April Fool’s Day, I’ll be the first to admit – my soul isn’t fooled one little bit. April’s A’Tossing out days, weeks, and months of wonder.

 

Copyright: Kieran York 2014

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Kieran York’s latest fiction is Careful Flowers, available in book form through http://www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Books and Kindle e-books are also available through Amazon.

Her romance, Appointment with a Smile, a 2013 Lambda Literary Award Finalist, is also available in both book form and e-book through Amazon, Blue Feather Books or Bella Book Distribution.

A new book of poetry is planned for a summer release. Blushing Aspen is a Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series Solo book for 2014 – published by Ultra Violet Love. Her poetry is also published in the best-selling Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Wet Violets, Volume 2; Roses Read, Volume 3; and the newly released Delectable Daisies, Volume 4. These collections are edited by award-winning poet, Beth Mitchum. They are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

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Interviews:

A print interview with Kieran York is available by going to: http://ultravioletlove.com. You’ll find it under Featured Author’s Series: Inside the Writer’s Head.

Two blog radio interviews are available through: http://beabehn.com – click left on Be(h)n’s Bookshelf to find discussion on Careful Flowers and Appointment with a Smile.

Amazing Treasure

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AMAZING TREASURE

2013 has been an amazing treasure of a year. I made it through with great happiness in my heart. And completely unscathed. It has been a year packed with love, friendship, and family.

Careful Flowers was published. I wrote a great many poems that have resonated in my soul, and they were given birth to in 2013.

My favorite saying is that I’m blessed. Sometimes I’m asked about why I’m usually happy, and feeling blessed. My response is always that throughout my adulthood, living has been a shining, loving treasury. It has been a pleasure, and a privilege to live at this inventive and magical time in history.

So much of my life is pure enjoyment, complete enchantment! It is full of amazing treasures. Although as in any life, there have been events and people who have been left behind. Once in my heart, most have never been removed from my thoughts. Magnificent times have been categorized and stored in a special corner of my mind’s memory. People seem always to be carefully placed inside my heart.

There have been so many, and are so many, wondrous times and people. What has been unpleasant in my life has not encumbered me. For I doubt that any life hasn’t known some unhappiness. My growing up, on a scale of terrible to unpleasant, was terribly unpleasant. But childhood and adolescence only toughened me up and prepared me. It provided a grateful appreciation for all the good that I’ve seen.

My adulthood has been pretty much pure loveliness. Naturally, I’ve lost people I’ve loved, and the years have handed me a life-threatening illness. And I’ve been hurt by a few people who have let me down. Who hasn’t suffered these, and far worse, problems? I don’t know anyone unfamiliar with some defeat, loss, or hurt.

We encounter difficulties, and we continue on. We crowd out those who harm us. We weed out those who make us unhappy. And we outfit ourselves in resilience.

How can I not be happy when I am surrounded by those who provide my life with humor, tranquility, beauty, and joy? I keep my Love, my Friends, and Family near and dear to me. Their spirit and kindness surrounds me. They are the people I trust, admire, and I love. Happiness is their gift. I hope I give that happiness back to the Love of my Life, my Forever Friends – the many decades of friendship, and my Ever-supportive Family.

I am within an enclave of heart-sharing people. I honor them, not only each New Year – but every moment of my life. They are kind, courageous, dependable, respective, honorable, intelligent, and humorous. I entrust my friends and family with enduring love and friendship.

That is my secret to enjoying life! I surround myself with amazing people. They wrap me in all things fine.

In addition, I have so many wonderful pals I’ve met on Facebook. And I’ve been re-acquainted with several of my best friends through the magic of Facebook. If you’re reading this, you’re probably one of my FB friends. I’ve met so many genuine, talented, decent new friends. And for this I’m thankful.

My FB friends have enriched my life. Together so many of us embrace the advancement of Sapphic literature. Together we share dreams for an inclusive world. Many are gracious with sharing the works of one another. The evolution of lesfic literature is the very continuation of our hearts. Our dreams are a legacy of our times. Our words belong to all. We lift ourselves as we lift one another.

As most of you know, I love author’s quotes. So I’ll close this blog with a few of my own quotes.

From Careful Flowers: No singular odyssey solves all queries. There was the soul to consider.

From Wet Violets: She brings the world’s secrets to where I am.

From the Royce Madison mystery series: Plenty Amazing!

From Appointment with a Smile: I shall forever believe in love.

And so, we approach 2014! I thank all of you for reading my words, for sharing them, and for your love and support. I thank you for bringing my laughter, and sometimes a tear or two. I thank you for your friendship. The gift of friendship includes wonder, humor, kindness, love, and peace. I wish each of you all of these portions of my friendship.

Happy New Year! May it be the best of all. 2014!

Copyright: Kieran York 2013

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Careful Flowers is available in book form through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Book Distribution for books or e-book. Books and Kindle e-books are also available though Amazon.

Kieran York’s romance, Appointment with a Smile, a 2013 Lambda Literary Award Finalist, is also available through Blue Feather  Books, Bella Book Distribution and Amazon.

If your interested in poetry, check out her poetry in the best-selling Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Wet Violets, Volume 2; and Roses Read, Volume 3. These collections are edited by award-winning poet, Beth Mitchum. They are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

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Interviews:

A print interview with Kieran York is available by going to : http://ultravioletlove.com. You’ll find it under Featured Authors Series: Inside the Writer’s Head.

Two blog radio interviews are available through: http://beabehn.com – Click left        on Be(h)h’s Bookshelf to find discussions on Careful Flowers and Appointment with a Smile.

Rocky Mountain Intimacy

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ROCKY MOUNTAIN INTIMACY

High country, and our Rocky Mountain intimacy,
belong exclusively to us.
We amble between stony curtains.
Wildlife squeaks, bugles, rustles, warbles, and chirps.
Before us is our meadow of lush grasses,
delicate flowers, jutting chunks of granite,
and an assortment of brush and leaning trees.
A blanket we spread fits the ground perfectly.
Edges lift from the soft plant clumps beneath it.
As we relax, and stretch out upon the quilt,
we inhale the loam, the pine, and the sweetness
of thin, clean mountain air.
Harmony infuses us with all the love in the world.
Tranquility is an intrinsic pleasure of the moment.
Clouds trick us with their tender metaphoric language.
We savor one another’s joy.
For each time I gaze at you,
silly infatuation converts to love.
And our intimacy captivates me.
Our mountain picnic is in the midst of perfection.
Color dresses up the trees with new growth.
Echoing is a nearby stream’s melodious voice.
From that gentlest of all brooks,
trickling waters splash as they bounce over polished rocks.
A cool forest breeze is crooning a scat song
known to all eternity.
Our hearts make us wayward Bohemians.
We are trekkers on an impromptu mission.
Looking into one another’s eyes,
we become aware of our place.
We are no longer estranged spirits.
Nor is ours the evangelized ardor
of an idyllic script too often spoken.
This moment, and this monument
becomes the contour of us.
Our smiles are within the enormity of a universe.
Our embrace is between rock layers of protection.
We are extemporaneous, and our laughter proves it.
I slip a columbine, that matches your eye’s color,
into your outstretched hand.
You grin your approval.
There is some euphoric cohesiveness
I’ve never felt before.
And perhaps shall never feel again.
Love’s imprint is much greater
than a sparsely uttered slice of rhetoric.
Wilderness is a song sung only for us.
I would rather not return to civilization.
Hiking down the trail, we’ll promise to return.
Although it will be then, not now.
It will still and forever remain ours.
It will be another time and another place
of our Rocky mountain intimacy.

COPYRIGHT: Kieran York 2013

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Please check out my love poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Wet Violets, Volume 2. Edited by the award-winning poet, Beth Mitchum. These books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you’re interested in romantic fiction, please check out Appointment with a Smile, the 2013 Lambda Finalist in the Romance category, by Kieran York. A new book is scheduled for release in 2013, titled Careful Flowers. Books are available through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and Kindle e-books available through Amazon.

Listening In

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LISTENING IN ON EQUALITY

Any moment a ruling will be uttered or muttered, or shouted, or whispered. It will have to do with equality. Am I good enough to have the rights that all Americans should have? You be the judge. Well, actually, there are robed Justices doing the judging. Beyond that there are the American people.

LISTENING IN ON EQUALITY

I listen in on equality.
Superficial music blooms with an unrelenting promise.
Across the airways, love happens or it is being gutted.
Long ago forgotten, the subject plagues me.
As if it has become lightning’s jagged tongue, it blares.
I squint to see where decency might be.
I recognize the lyrics, for the song is titled Insta-Bully.
It talks trash.
The lead singer was just released from hatred’s lockdown.
Legislation is bait and switch.
As if words are souvenirs tossed into the barrenness,
musical notes wane.
Theoretical concepts have their own atmosphere.
Artificial emptiness has never impressed me.
Cascading volcanos of spewing intolerance burns.
Brains filled with ego do not entreat my sympathy.
Sludge brags as it paints injustice.
I overhear crud as it splats against clean walls.
Lucidity is sacred, and has flocked to the streets.
Bigotry sound exactly like cringe-worthy shouts.
Once impelled toward hatred, smarmy words fade.
Hearts locked in dark silence begin their histrionics.
Their authorship hides beneath shame.
The font of harm prints only litter.
If love is seeped in culture, I hope to soon hear its roar.
I wander the byways of eternity.
My shoulders sag, folding with age.
Ravaged, I march on.
For my torrent of energy hears the drums of equality.
An answer becomes my destiny – my ballad.
My choir garb is frayed by disappointment.
With rusty shovels, I excavate, and examine fate.
With tight-fisted heart, I search and hope.
Does a human heart have nerves?
Who owns eternity?

Copyright Kieran York

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Please check out my poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Web Violets, Volume 2. Edited by Beth Mitchum. These books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you’re interested in romantic fiction, please check out the 2013 Lambda Finalist in the Romance category, Appointment with a Smile by Kieran York. Books are available through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and e-books are also available through Amazon.

Poems of Yesteryear

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POEMS OF YESTERYEAR

On this layback Sunday morning, I chat and laugh with those I love. I survey the backyard, and my plans for intermingling herbs with sweet vegetables, and with ingenuity. And I rummage through my papers and books of yesteryear.

This morning I found two poems in a previously published book of my poetry. The year was 1976 – at least that was the report on my copyright. The poetry could have been written anywhere from the invention of earth’s stones – to 1976.

Although most of my poetry is now written on a computer – those poems were either handwritten or they were composed via a typewriter. They are both written from my heart as a youthful writer.

Heart as a writer! Hmmmmmm. Is that the heart that batters its way across a landmine- filled acreage of words? Punctured and mutilated, and sometimes exiled and scorned? Is it the heart that finds joy in a simple phrase? Or is placed upon an altar, or emulated, or loved?

Although at the time I primarily was writing journalistic feats about twenty-story buildings being tossed together, and a lost dog, and maybe a blurb about a fifteen-pound cabbage.

I took breathing time on Sundays to write poetry, stories, and other scribblings. “Mood Typer” and “A Writer” were two of my contributions – they explained the emotion and the longing I had and have for words.

MOOD TYPER

From the keyboard of existence, I sketch moods.
Exaggerated and underplayed, I twist events to manufacture poetry.
Jotting words that translate time.
Feisty and aware, counterpart to the zealot.
Downtrodden, lingering and shirking my duty to execute an exacting appraisal.
Argumentative and callous, when looking at the harshness of past events.
Sensitive, weighing carefully, I observe with compassion and love.
Objective and subjective, and seldom realizing the difference.
Trying to evaluate a never-ending series of emotion.
Slicing away at the words and editing out the milder moods, I am.
Penciling in the sideshows – developing a continuation of thought.
Meaning it, as I attempt to create mood portraits.
With quiet desperation – wanting to understand.
Feeling the vibs generated by a network of today.
A compulsive attempt to paint a social commentary – I pound a keyboard.
Going deeper and deeper into that commitment to capture an illusion.
Secret revelations of the interior have clutched me tightly.
Bypassing punctuation and carving away adjectives – I pour words.
Self is being exposed.
Painful, elevating, exhausting, and mostly meaning it.
Mostly attempting to mean it.

COPYRIGHT 1976 Kieran York

A WRITER

An interior flasher of sorts – a writer is.
Trying for the social commentary,
I’m tapped into the Muse.
Writing and tissue-papering a chronicle of today.
Peeling back and letting you witness my tranquility and my rage.
Me.
So why are you discussing punctuation and spelling –
when we could be taking about my meaning?
Insecurities are always a fun topic.
I can tell you what hurts me.
When I feel the pangs of war, I cringe as I jot them.
When I tell of hate’s terrible chain, my heart shrivels.
And I can pull back the flesh and let you peer in to see a happy beat.
The moment I experience an unfolding columbine.
A smile from a wayward stranger, who wants to see my smile.
Who needs to recognize my human hope.
A writer is an emotional stripper of sorts.
Because of financial gains and fame?
I’m told I must first die.
Why then?
A promissory note.
I know you understand.

COPYRIGHT 1976 Kieran York

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Please check out my love poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Wet Violets, Volume 2. Edited by Beth Mitchum. These books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you’re interested in romantic fiction, please check out the 2013 Lambda Finalist in the Romance category, Appointment with a Smile by Kieran York. Books are available through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and Kindle e-books are also available through Amazon.

Etiquette and Elegy

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ETIQUETTE OF MORNING

The etiquette of morning exists within tame hearts.
Luminosity’s candor is the fresh smell of daybreak.
We are inspired by the gentle waking of earth.
As each roll of our orb shrugs us to light, we begin.
From synthetic dreams, we languish with contentment.
Trees, grasses, and flowers have a debonair strut as they grow.
Midmorning’s hesitancy bring new exhilaration.
It isn’t over, the graciousness of morning.
Unfiltered sunbeams have time before midday’s arrival.
Rays cultivate, regenerating warmth.
Even clouds give a diaphanous glow.
Mosses and lichens are encrusted upon staunch granite.
We have neared them as we walk.
Sprouting sprigs of blooming twiggy plants brush our legs.
Feathery leaves, with gentle touches, protrude.
Tufted petals open to swallow down sunlight.
They fail to recognize that they are life’s inducements.
Other breathing species crouch, and sprawl.
Mornings make us venturesome.
Propriety allows kindness.
Etiquette requires concern for others.
Romance is our greatest reason.
It is so like the gentleness of daybreak.

ELEGY OF A DAY

What is our private elegy of a day?
Are we here to take the pulse of meteors and magic?
We are humanity, and believe ourselves life’s linchpin.
Existence idles its way to become Homo sapiens adrift.
Our minds empower us with capability.
Wisdom is our resource.
Nudged by kindred concern, we attempt to please one another.
Yet we require stop-signs and fences.
Trapped by earth’s gravity, be banish one another.
But also, we covet the humanness we share.
Our mission – could it be learning the world?
Understanding our bounty, as well as our hazards?
Or living with the vicious nature of an earth searching mischief?
Our planet’s divine and disheveled moments are everywhere.
There are magnificent plundering experiments – yet we remain.
Our inscription is a riddle of antique messages.
Time has welded many clues within earth’s crusty quarry.
Nature has been compressed by carved ditches, and sprawling waters.
Outside our periphery are whirling gigantic marbles.
Within our own is a strident exchange of arctic blasts and blistering lava.
There is a mystical research of nature long ago sealed away.
Life’s residue reminds us of our value.
Nudged from rock and soil, we migrate.
We learn our world and ourselves – if we are fortunate.
We come to know another heart – if we are blessed.
Our elegy is the day we spend here together.

COPYRIGHT: Kieran York

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Please check out my poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Wet Violets, Volume 2. Edited by Beth Mitchum. These books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you are interested in romantic fiction, please check out the 2013 Lambda Finalist in the Romance category, Appointment with a Smile by Kieran York. Books are available through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and Kindle e-books are also available through Amazon.

My latest book, Careful Flowers is scheduled for release mid-Summer.

Lace and Denim

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LACE AND DENIM

Lace and denim – I wear them both.
As I’ve aged with the splendor of lace and the durability of denim,
I’ve inserted both inside my poetry and prose.
My youth has faded into after-hours times.
Tarnish may have built up, but patina is well-layered.
Yet my heart is never far from being center.
I’m in the middle of a tranquil and wondrous life.
I chuckle when admitting that my emotion
compares to a well-ridden horse.
Much of my life I’ve been a stray mustang.
I’ve galloped lighted paths enamored with all.
My mainstay has been interior peace.
I belong to a once-hidden sisterhood.
We are now in clear sight, and proudly so.
Our love is mostly a generous guardianship.
Shakespeare had written about black vesper’s pageants.
Okay, over the years I’ve had wounds,
but they became my heart’s foster care.
Sappho mentions her heart has been shaken by love.
My winter song is unshaken.
I wrap my skin with lace, and then slip into denim.
Perhaps we women exist within our own revolution.
We share healing psalms, and the embrace of reverence.
Sonnets are written when exuberance throws off sorrow.
Romance is an ego massage kneading another’s heartbeat.
Indoctrinated by homespun philosophy,
my epigram is nearly always visible.
Genet speaks of love’s worst traps;
Whitman asks if self can be given.
I know very little about the fabric of humanity,
other than the moments I love.
Youth recognizes odes to ovaries.
Age knows the edit by heart.
And I’ve learned the kiss of a sunrise is magnificent.
Just as the embrace of moonlight warms me.
So many patches cover my ancient soul.
I believe in words spoken by wisdom through letters.
Compositions speak to all ages, all through the ages.
My existence has been a song only time can best sing.
Romance and friendship are the handrails of living.
Lace and denim are my armor – I wear them both.

COPYRIGHT: Kieran York

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Please check out my poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Wet Violets, Volume 2. Edited by Beth Mitchum. The books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you’re interested in romantic fiction, please check out the 2013 Lambda Finalist in the romance category, Appointment with a Smile by Kieran York. Books are available  through www.bluefetherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and Kindle e-books are also available through Amazon.

WAR CLOUD WORDS

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At times it seems that we are surrounded by war. Explosions rob us of one another. Countries, with mad posturing, aim their threats across the world. And I go along with little-to-no understanding of war.

I caught the flowing thoughts that stampeded through my mind. War Cloud Words is written with pain, with hurt, and with ingredients I admit not to know how to decipher. My vision of a world filled with war cloud words has a flip side. I can also hope for humanity’s long reach to finally hold a sky filled with love and peace.

WAR CLOUD WORDS

Words, no louder than a wasp emits, were sighed.
Vividly detailed hatred shouted its message.
Each nation’s declaration was galvanized with stealthy resolve.
When trepidation converted to fear –
terror became a shiver announcing there was no way back.
Such a small deed was required – barely a blemish.
Watchdogs suffered from the violent feeding frenzy.
A veiled cradle had been leavened into time’s mud.
Metal twisted stick-figures.
Uncoiled trinkets were barely identifiable as they
anonymously cascaded to earth.
Hollowed-out lands, homes, people were estranged
from their mission of life.
Death remnants of pungent air, and hovering souls
were reinvented.
Exalted, vile, and evil laughter claimed sad victory.
A desolate calendar continued digging earth.
Naked flame of once bright ceremony
duplicated blisters of excruciating agony.
Life was haunted by love converging
in a cobwebbed corner.
Delusion invaded destiny.
Rushing away was the fake charisma
of a well-armed circus barker.
All songs smashed into their own silent stone of anguish.
No one had truly conquered the darkest day ever created.
War exploded – while love imploded.
Emotions were folded between crease of flesh.
Drills scratched the globe to find the depths of blood.
Hate’s taste had forever fouled the air.
Yet perfumed trails of love curled toward heaven.
If we pressed our lips to kindness,
would unkindness not hide?
Such a searing microcosm had ushered in disruption.
The clasp of love could assuredly will peace with simplicity
and with the majesty of perfect care.
Yet villainy intruded with deliberate intent
to scar that very decency and carve it away
Hostilities, so chaotic and cruel seemed ever-present.
So honorable was trust and benign hearts.
Prayer from the sky above sent utterances of charity.
And war cloud words were shrieking ever louder.
At least until the world became weary of listening.
And then without contrition,
without pseudo-justice,
yet with compassion for victim, and not villain –
reason lived.
The sky cleared.

COPYRIGHT: Kieran York

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Please check out my poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Wet Violets, Volume 2. Edited by Beth Mitchum, the books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you are interested in romantic fiction, please consider the 2013 Lambda Award Finalist, Appointment with a Smile, by Kieran York. Books are available through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and Kindle e-books are available through Amazon. York’s latest book is titled Careful Flowers, and will soon be released by Blue Feather Books.

A Thought

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This has been an active week concerning same-sex marriages. A couple of decades ago I wrote a short story – “X-Chromosomes” – part of a collection of short stories. As I was hearing news reports about equality, I thought of this story. It contains some of the fears parents had about losing custody of their children if they were found to be lesbian or gay.

Well, here’s my offering, and we are still concerned about inequality. What silliness when all we should be considering about any portion of life is – good hearts.

X-CHROMOSOMES by Kieran York

“That’s the ticket,” Dolly Riggs reassured. She leaned down to give the child’s plump cheek a soft tweak. “A smile is better than a frown any old day. Why you got a sweet little face when it’s smiling, Violet. Your name suits you. For a fact, it does.” Standing back, Dolly gave a frisky nod toward the five-year old. “We all like happy endings.”

Violet Thomas blinked into the sun. She focused her squint on the spry octogenarian. One of the neighbors had called Dolly Riggs a senile old bat of dubious sexual leanings. Miss Agatha Dillard, Dolly’s dear friend and housemate, had died two years ago. Dolly had shared a home with Miss Agatha for over fifty years. Everyone on the block had called the two women spinsters. Some however, were more graphic. Violet had no earthly idea what ‘leps-beings’ were. And her mother told her it wasn’t of any true importance anyway.

To Violet, Dolly was only a nice old neighbor lady. She wore strange garb. A huge pagoda straw hat was always worn in the sun. And long-sleeved shirts and pants, because Miss Agatha had always said that Dolly had a bad way with the sun. Dolly’s wardrobe may have set her apart as eccentric, but even that seemed to endear her to the children on the block. She always had time for them. Time to give them apples from her giant apple tree. Time to tell them stories of Joanie Appleseed. That was the feminist version, naturally. And she insisted the kids call her by her first name rather than Mrs. Riggs. The formal title annoyed her.

“Davey run off with my favorite seashell. Aunt Lana brought it from the ocean. Brought it special for me. And Davey stole it,” Violet tattled with a grumble inside her jaw.

When her parents divorced, Aunt Lana had moved in with Violet and her mother, Jody. Aunt Lana was a traveling business woman. She often went near the ocean, and always brought a special shell, and a t-shirt, for Violet.

“Why on earth would Davey do that?” Dolly quizzed. “That boy has more toys than good sense. He’s as selfish as the day is long. Why his big brother never acted like that. He was a gentlemanly youngster. But that Davey!”

“Well, he did it. He took it offa me. To be mean, I ‘spose,” Violet incriminated her playmate. She gave a sway of her curly blonde locks to confirm the crime.

“Never thought I’d see the day when he could get one over on you, Violet Rae Thomas.”

“He did it to be spiteful. Aunt Lana tells that Davey is a spiteful little shit if ever there was one. And my mom says Aunt Lana knows character. Why Aunt Lana even told Mommy that my Daddy wasn’t right for her. Mom says I was the only good thing that come outta getting married. But she had to try marriage on.”

“Lots of folks don’t pick the right flavor first off.”

“Aunt Lana says she’s amazed my dad didn’t goof up with a Y.”

“A Y?” Dolly questioned, gawking down at the child.

“Yes. Instead of the X-chromosome.”

Dolly grinned. “Aunt Lana said that, did she?”

“Yep. Now, how am I gonna get my shell back?”

“Why that’s clear as a fresh scrubbed window.” Dolly’s frown broke. Memory, she mused, is where the past is reinvented. She found similarities in most events trailing from her many yesterdays to today. “One time I wanted something that was taken from me. I set my mind thinking and came up with a plan.”

“Criminy sakes,” Violet squealed. “I just need me a plan.”

“Can’t use my exact plan. It’s been used up by me. But we can change it about.” She crossed her spindly arms defiantly. Leaning down, she asked, “Want to try that?”

“Sure. You can come up with a plan for me.”

“You’ll need to be clever as all get-out.” Dolly hesitated. “Solving problems can usually be done in one of two ways. Blossoms or bullets.”

“Blossoms or bullets?” Violets face squeezed with pure bewilderment. “What’s that all about?”

“Blossoms, well, that’s giving folks a smile. You serve Davey up some tea-cakes and sugar.”

“Davey is too spoiled for that business. His momma bakes a bunch.”

Dolly reconsidered, “Well, I mean by being kindly to him, but I do believe he’s far to strong-willed for blossoms to work.” She dipped the brim of her hat. “Blossoms are out.”

“I got no bullets,” Violet whined with a shrug. “I don’t even got a gun.”

“Bullets don’t mean real bullets. It means you use tactics that aren’t so kindly.”

“That’ll get me in Dutch at Sunday School.” With a puffy sigh, she asked, “What did you have so you needed blossoms or bullets?”

“My best friend wanted my husband. I married him. Thought I would have family of sweet little ones. That never came to be. Anyways, my friend still wanted him. So I gave him to her. I sort of traded for her roommate. Well, she regretted the trade. And I never regretted it for one minute.” Dolly cackled. “Not one minute of my whole life. Agatha and I were better suited.”

Violet’s lips protruded. “I want my shell back,” she brayed. She stomped her foot. “And I’m gonna get it, too. Aunt Lana said not to be in-tim-a-dated. Not by him, or any other boy in the world. Tells me never try to be equal to boys ’cause that would be lowering my standards. She tells me I’m already better because of my X business makin’ me a little girl.”

“What’s your mama say?” Dolly quizzed with amusement.

“Says Aunt Lana is a radical, separatist, feminist Sapphic.”

“Gracious,” Dolly said with a bolt. “But that’s your little secret.”

“I got another secret, too.”

Dolly’s eyebrows lifted. “I’ll bet I can guess.”

“You can?”

“I’ll bet your Aunt Lana isn’t really your aunt. But she’s a pretend aunt.”

“How’d you know?”

“Just a wild guess.”

“Yeah, but I can’t tell nobody. Besides, Aunt Lana is the best aunt I could have anyway.”

“Yes. Now then, little Violet, what do you intend on doing about your special shell?”

“This blossom and bullet tactic isn’t for me,” the small girl answered. “I’m gonna give Davey a shake or two. Smack him in the tummy if I got to. That should do the trick. Aunt Lana said it was okay to tear a strip offa him or any other bullies. An’ I’m gonna do just that.”

Violet stormed down the sidewalk. Pure determination was her ally. Dolly shook her head and snickered for many moments. She watched until Violet was out of sight. Then she returned to tending her begonias. Dolly fussed over her flowers with the tenderness they deserved. Several times she put down her garden shovel and chuckled to herself.

“X-chromosomes, indeed!”

COPYRIGHT: Kieran York

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Please check out my poetry in the best-selling poetry collection, Sappho’s Corner Poetry Series: Roses Read, Volume 3; and Wet Violets, Volume 2. Edited by Beth Mitchum, the books are available through http://ultravioletlove.com and Amazon.

If you are interested in romantic fiction, please consider the Lambda Award Finalist Appointment with a Smile by Kieran York. Books are available through www.bluefeatherbooks.com. Or order through Bella Books Distribution for books or e-books. Books and Kindle e-books are available through Amazon.