Three Poems by Diana Rosen

soft cartel may 2018

Water Sports

Lolling in the bath, I remember
your arms around me,
palms atop my thighs,
your body pressing my back,
seeking softness awaiting you.
Lifting me backwards
you drape me onto your floating body,
your hands covering my breasts.
My feet dangle
in chlorine-scented waters.
We’re sandwiched together until
gently broadsided—a wayward raft—
I soar through aquamarine light,
gaze at your face half surprised,
half amused, thoroughly distracted:

Floatus interruptus.

Jungle Fever

We pace like pumas
flutter like birds
circle one another
‘til a sky of surety unites
sweet flowers of lips.
The Chinese astrologer
said we had each been
the same person. That
somehow the cosmos
split us apart
brought us back
together, or maybe we
are just two people
on the edge of loneliness
who did not run away
this time.

Walking Through Green Gulch One Tuesday

My friend Karen, she of precise poetic line breaks,
and I, with my words sprawling to the edge of the page,
walk this winding path marked with leaves, not casually blown
to the ground, but laid in a pattern like a precious Oriental
carpet of boomerangs in red and ochre. The path is bordered
on both sides with a low fence of gray logs tied with X’s
of tan rope and gray interspersed with precisely positioned
round rocks, like grocery produce stacked more exactly
than nature ever intended. Empty shoes lean against
the outside meditation room wall: dutiful lap dogs
awaiting their masters’ return. From contrived orderliness,
the path veers off to a greenhouse nursery attended by three
women in matching wide-brimmed hats and mindfulness,
cutting fresh flowers for market. We wander further to a rose-
covered arbor that opens onto an English country garden
of clipped hedges and graceful benches where we sit Karen,
Zen quiet, me with racing thoughts, inhaling the thick lush
grass sweet with morning dew. Behind us, a jumble of cosmos
in a Manet splatter of colors, sways in the twilight breeze
as if to say, “You cannot control everything.”

DIANA ROSEN is a journalist, nonfiction book author with 13 credits, essayist, and poet/flash fiction writer. Recent and forthcoming print and online publications include The Pangolin Review, Poetic Diversity, Zingara Review, Ariel Chart, These Fragile Lilacs, and the anthologies Poetry Box: Love Poems and Altadena Poetry Review. Other credits, among others, include RATTLE, Tiferet Journal, Camroc Review, and Verse-Virtual.