17 ITEM COLLAGE-POEM
MOMENTS IN THE PAST by April Ryan
Dust upon a wine bottle
life’s tic-toc-tic long ago
A moan from fog
walking blackouts erased
A broken promise dangled like
forgiveness hanging on
A piece of string
trapping time between
Two books on a broken shelf
tied into a package
Pressing a gardenia scent dry
petals exposed moldy air
A bridge to teary memories
closeted pair of Tony Lama’s
One boot shined like a saddle
horn reflecting desire
Using a bar of soap
wipe away anxiety
Joy of aroma fresh baked
dinner with kiss-me warm
Bread melting butter hung
like fresh yellow snowballs
Three beads on a beard
calling a napkin covered lap
Tempting a fly
stay the night
FLIES — A 17 ITEM COLLAGE-STORY by April Ryan
A fly brought down the presidency on a cold, icy winter day, in the sooner or later future. No one remained to know how long the commander-in-chief sat at his desk rolling the three worry beads in the palm of his hand. The oval office door, locked and barricaded for privacy, kept out fog from poison gases. They all thought he was fooled, but he knew their target. Him. A moan escaped his parched throat as he remembered a broken promise.
A fly turned the world into dust. Climate change, bah, he knew the scientists were wrong. Until… Until…. Until he saw a fly bravely take shelter from the most epic snowstorm in all the history of the world. A gardenia in his office, a hothouse plant, nurtured by the White House florist. Opened petals matched the pure color of a bar of Ivory soap. Joy filled his throbbing heart seeing the whitest-whites, and golden-golds. He didn’t need tying a piece of string on his finger reminding himself of being the most powerful man on earth, while one boot rested on a broken shelf.
A fly enticed him to pull off one boot, tossed like a touchdown pass at the annoying black speck crawling in circles on the wall. One boot off, exposed his big toe and a worn hole in a special MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN sock. Two books slide at a perfect angle, bouncing on the desk, hitting the red nuclear-button installed to give a bridge of fear threat to any stubborn visiting head of state.
A fly crawled into a wine bottle, neck broken, bleeding Burgundy from the one boot toss. A moldy loaf of bread, the last of baked good from his personal chef, lay petrified on a platter. Pine tree colored, a perfect green “Merry Christmas” greeting, spreading across snow-white sliced bread.
A fly landed on the wiry battleship grey beard. No soft Santa Claus white on his chinny-chin-chin, he could barely huff or puff to blow orange Cheetos cheese puffs dust away. He smiled at the joy of being the last man on earth. Wearing a fly suit, he finally became King of the World.
A fly whispered in his ear, “Wait for global-warming.” A broken promise, indeed, he thought. Only he would be able to MAKE THE WORLD GREAT AGAIN, after the radioactive dust settled.
(an experiment in fiction – or is it?)
