Devney & Franklin – Feb.14

Linda Franklin and Meredith Devney traded art and words. Linda shared this piece, “Words From the Jewelry Box,” with Meredith:

In response, Meredith wrote this poem:

In The Walnut Box

with velvet lining removed, relics sit
atop exposed wood– one for every lover.

Samuel who scoured the sky for magpies.
Tied mint around your wrist to ward off infection.
Gathered nettles from a churchyard
and boiled them for a broth he drank
from the same glass bottle every evening.

Jack who rode in on the Union Pacific one June–
swallowing swords, breathing fire, bending
steel plated nails with his teeth. You made love
on a dirt floor under a red and white striped tent
and by July he was gone.

Eric who plucked potatoes with a banjo
strapped to his back, refusing to play for anyone
but the faces in the fields, summer branding
a line that wrapped from shoulder to chest,
one you traced every evening with two fingertips.

Patrick who appeared one winter’s night
on an alpaca, breath chalking the air. You stood
before him as he pulled a pocket watch
from the breast of his vest and told you
It’s about time.

Abram who blamed the sun for his faded
blue eyes. Carried a cross in his wallet
that he whittled from tree bark. Gave you
a hallowed chestnut pod one autumn with a ring
inside that he never thought you’d store

for safe keeping.

* * * *

Meredith shared this poem with Linda:

Hells Angels

Mid July they flocked to the fairgrounds:
All metal and mayhem my father warned—
feldgrau skin, beards braided to a point,
the skull and golden wings I envied.

Reading the headlines: Angel’s Arson on 4th,
Biker Brawl at Big Tree, I envisioned
muggy air melting into ninety-miles-per-hour,
insects smacking flesh, hair writhing
like rattle snakes around my neck,

road signs mapping foreign routes
ahead. I’d lay in bed listening
through screens as motors overwhelmed
bellowing bull frogs. Quarter past ten
they’d ride our cul-de-sac, engines revved.

My father at the front door, arms folded
while mine clutched a leather vest
as I drifted to sleep and they sped away,
single headlights shining.

In response, Linda made this digital collage, “All Metal and Mayhem”: