in parentheses

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry; was the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year; is featured in the Sweetycat Press’s “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020 and 2021.” She is the author of 16 poetry books, and 1 short story book.

Her work has been previously featured on In Parentheses.

---

Capricorn & Goldenrods

Capricorn flies past the moon as night awakens.
The dark calls us to be lovers, you & I.
We walk on space & time.
A new world of hope reaches out to touch the morning sun.
Autumn springs forth. Air chills as it expels from my lungs.
Goldenrod owns the day as October tiptoes in.
Where did we meet?
Where did we go wrong?
The signs were all there.
We read our fate within the stars.
Day & night now morph to gray.
There is no turning back.
Years turn upside-down. We stray from what we were.
November, then December, call our names.
The brownness of trees, the grayness of sky.
It is too much to ask.
The next constellation flies by,
riding on the crest of a waning moon.
Only time will tell our story, and if we ever join again.
Capricorn says goodbye to all we once knew.
Goldenrods drop their seeds upon a frozen earth.

Waiting for the Birds to Sing

As a young child she never touched the sky,
afraid to hear birds sing. She hid beneath
mountains, sheltering from herself. Quietness
from within appeased the angry torment that
was her soma. Dreaming of dawn, clothed
in white clouds. Faith could not give in to
broken promises. Listening to the silent prayers
of the masses, she closed up. A flower, folding
tighter upon itself. One day she succumbed.
The sky opened up for her. She found herself.
Birds sang out in joy. She was a woman at last.

A Game of Seasons

The snow fell. Icey winds blew. You wanted summer.
I could not give it to you. You walked away holding

knife & fork, searching for a feast. Mouths opened
on request. Food shoveled out of silver bowls.

Gleaming vessels of by-gone days. The drought had
run its course. It was a memory now. You begged

for more. I turned away. Trees bowed their obedience.
Everything seemed strained. Your brother played the

violin, or was it a trombone? Music froze in mid-air
as sparrows carried it off – propagating sound.

Summer hid herself among the thorns. Snowbirds
scratched for seed. Doors shut. Eyes open. We spoke

our last good-byes. Winter peeked around the corner,
a grin upon his lips – he won.

I Wanted to Sing

I wanted to sing – but you stole my voice
I wanted to fly – but you broke my wings

in the forest – naked trees closed in around me
folding sharp branches into chains

imprisoned by doubt – time laughed at me
in a deep throaty roar – destiny does not lie

turbulent time held out his hand – welcoming
me in / surrounding me in his comforting pain

there were so many places I wanted to go
and so many things I wanted to do

yet here we sit upon a shelf
pondering our own demise

wanting to escape – I hummed a song out of tune
wanting to love – I carried roses to your grave

there is no tomorrow where today has never been
yesterday is calling me to her abode

voices raised in a new hymn – to him who cannot
be seen – as we walk away with no more sins to hide

Memories in the Key of C

I have my own pages
grasped in aging hands.
Words wander through the course
drifting off the edge.

We were wayward souls – you and I,
before our bodies touched.

Sweet fragrance of night
wrapped us in its love

I savor the past
held in little cups
served up neatly
upon a king-sized bed

In the distance,
a bell
tolled
Lavender tunes sprang
from
our
lips

The exquisite pain of morning
when you walked away

Searching for lost words
I am a broken song

---