Miracle

for Jennie Lloyd’s baby

Enveloped in darkness —
surrounded by perfect blackness
(the comfort of mother
on all sides)
Grow gracefully, child of
Love — inside your peaceful shelter.

Your mother is special — young and
full of energy and wonderful
thoughts and hopes and you.
Kiss her often, precious child.

Feel the smile you bring
to her face when
your mother sees herself
in you and sees
things she wishes she could be.

Be careful of the world.
Hold tightly the hands
that guide and protect you.
Know when to run home and
when to soar free.

Sometimes parents need
a shoulder to cry on —
welcome that moment
and comfort those who need you.

Be who you know you are.
Don’t let the world hold you back.
You can be whoever you want.
This world is big and is better
now because of you, child of Jennie.

Notes

Written 20 February 2000 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Miracle” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

thirteen

Dust and saltlicks and fuzzy caterpillars. I loved the farm. I often complained about the heat or stickerweed or the heat — such incredible heat. I was secretly relieved and secretly upset when G, with her parents moved into town. Where in town was the garden full of overripe squash and where in town were the cows, anxious for discarded watermelon or cantaloupe rind for dessert. They moved to be close to a hospital — to make certain they would have a place near for death. Poor G, it broke her heart, and us kids would sit around making all kinds of noise and she wanted to cry. Cry now, G, cry. Were off making noises in our own places — we’re grown now. We know you need a little peace — we will be quiet now.

1.29.2000

part of the chapbook Studies In Loneliness

Shy Child

Spoiled with love and round
His bright wide eyes look in wonderment
The figures to him are blurred and scary
He does not smile

Notes

Written 5 October 1998 in Claremore, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Shy Child” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

On the Balcony

Toast
& strawberry jam,
bit of butter,
3 cups of coffee,
and the latest
poetry journal.
The smell of burnt toast
and scorched coffee
smells like morning.
The balcony is nice
this morning,
despite dead plants
left in pots from summer.
Spring is nearly over
and neglect is everywhere,
my time consumed by
words.
The jam is sweet and
the hum of an idling car
distracts from the peace.

Notes

Written September 1998 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “On the Balcony” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

Zinnia elegans

for Becky

I think about her when the zinnias bloom,
when the sun forces sweat down my back
and the pansies are swapped out for celosias,
which my grandpa would plant as a large drift
of brilliant red, the spiky flames at the back
and the cock’s combs at the front.
The zinnias would be planted in a circle,
a button of summer’s magic in the middle
of the lawn, halfway between the house
and the row of tomatoes
that couldn’t be given away fast enough.
We’d help with the gardening,
getting in the way and picking the best blooms.

Written 13 August 1998 in Claremore, Oklahoma & 23 February 2020 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Zinnia elegans” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

NotesContinue Reading

little SUPERHEROES

we considered our capes
and took them seriously.
my brother and i, we were
powerful and strong.
we defended the universe
(or our little piece of it)
from evil forces; frogs
and butterflies and
horned-toads.
we claimed a tall elm
for our hideout. the
arsenal placed there
at our feet was perfect
to fight evil forces.
occasionally we would
capture a horned-toad,
just as we were called in
for dinner. we’d let
the horned-toad go and
we would fly inside.
all in a days work for
SUPERHEROES.

Notes

Written on or before 9 March 1998 in Claremore, Oklahoma. 

Brian Fuchs, “little SUPERHEROES” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)