Jimmy Burns

A JAR OF PICKLES

Cold,

refreshing,

crisp dill pickles                                            Kosher 

                                                              spears



                             sealed

                             in air tight vacuum 



                                                            jar lid

                                                            refuses

                                                            to budge

                                                                          single hand

                                                                          frustration



so close

             yet miles away

                                                                          taste

                                                                          unavailable.

                                     Left to be

                                     opened

                                                                           by tandem

of matching hands.    

* * *

AFTER A NEIGHBOR PASSES

Sun flowers, wild and free
encroach on front lawn
like plastic graveyard
flowers fading in sun;
tall grass begs mowing,
blades rustle in breeze;
abandoned wheelchair
rusts on rotting porch,
handicap ramp implodes
leaving only rickety
grab rails upright.
Second hand walker
awaits for garbage
man to dispose
in anonymous dump.
Disability never
survives this life.

Jimmy Burns, a survivor of a stroke writes his poetry from his Wheelchair. Recent poetry in Chest, Edgz, Mad Poets, Pegasus and Wordgathering..