Category Archives: Brekke, Judy L.

inside/outside by Judy L. Brekke

Posted on by
Reply

inside/outside

babies stood in cribs
smell of urine permeated
building locked
kept crime out or in

          cheeks of rouge
          lips of pearl
          nails of gloss
          woman of grandeur

          red silk stockings
          magenta hip skirt
          blue ankle boots
          woman of night

          bass loud
          bouncing chevy
          stopped at curb
          paying customer

          neon flamingo
          creaking door
          vibrating bed
          ned was dead

early morning dew
glistens on the daffodils
reaching for the sun

wet tears drop slowly
down baby’s porcelain cheeks
morning sun dries, soothes

          ned was dead
          bled on the
          bedspread
          knife in chest

          woman of grandeur
          closed creaking door
          woman of night
          ripped red silk stockings

          flickering flamingo
          in mirror of bouncing chevy
          she drove away
          left dead ned on bed

–Judy L. Brekke

Baby Blues by Judy L. Brekke

Posted on by
Reply

crisp autumn night
uno sexual ceremony
back seat of car
drive-in theatre
age 15

sweltering summer morn
vows exchanged
blue dotted swiss stretched
over swollen belly

bride’s mother cried
grandmother drank beer
a celebration
under old umbrella elm

bride and groom
as sun set
drove to A & W Drive-In
ate burgers and fries

wedding night
sweats
stomach cramps
no sleep

early morning
went to hospital
six weeks before birth date
delivered blue baby boy

he breathed
newborn skin tones
mother smiled
father somber

three days
never held baby boy
quiet nurses reported
blue spells

third day
mother taken
to nursery
in wheelchair

nurse lifted
limp arm
dropped

age 16
no longer a new mother

baby blues won

Icebox by Judy L. Brekke

Posted on by
Reply

ICEBOX

we stand at edge of a cliff
wind blows through our hair
the cliff side is steep
below are railroad tracks
mother forbids us to go there

we watch in the distance
a green panel truck
drive up a dirt road
stop at the door
of our one room house
driver carries with tongs
a huge block of ice

we know mother is busy
with the icebox
she will not look for us
we climb down
the rocky dirt cliff
we wait for a train

–Judy L. Brekke

An Evening at the Theatre by Judy L. Brekke

Posted on by
Reply

AN EVENING AT THE THEATRE

The limo pulls to the curb.
Her first husband was in the air force.
A yellow jacket makes her hair stand up.
He plays the saxphone under the trees.
One child in yellow dress dances at the street pole.
He wouldn’t even cut the umbilical cord.
She ate cheesecake with cherries.
This is what you win when you work for Mary Kay cosmetics.

She opens the door of the limo.
A man with muscles,
a tight black t-shirt
stretched across his chest,
climbs out.
A cherry sprays water
over the gardens.
Black clouds bring out
umbrellas and hustling patrons.
Cindy Lauper and Cher will be here – oh my god!
Doors open to the theatre.
A mass of colors and sizes walk through the doors.

She closes the door to the limo.
Rain drops fall
but not under the trees.
She extends the umbrella
in order to keep her cigarette dry.
Coffee, gin with ice,
cherry red lips savor the taste of it.
Her pointed bright yellow shoes
match her hair.
He puts away his saxophone
only to bring it out again.
Holding the umbrella
she smokes in the rain.
Thunder cracks.
Drops of rain enlarge.

The limo drives away.
She just got out of the hospital yesterday.
A car seat for the baby was placed
in the wrong spot of the back seat.
Two men hug, smile, walk together.
The wind blows empty coffee cups.
She needs her ticket to obtain the hearing aid “thingee”.
A lightning flash,
the lights go down,
the voice speaks of cell phones
and pagers.
Music blasts.
A play begins.

–Judy L. Brekke