Sunday, 1 October 2017

Waking Up in October

by Eileen Murphy

The autumn time-change:
the door from death is permeable,
Grandma, brother
knock for attention.

I ask them questions
with blood & photos & flowers & tears
& they answer as best they can

though I’m too old
to hear clearly,
can barely make out their words.

Tonight, Grandma is young
& hopes to marry someone
who’s not a brute.

Baby Brother  
is still 16
& surfing all these years.

dog barks me awake. I whistle
her in. She curls at
my feet, filled with light—

* * * * *

A former Chicagolander, Eileen Murphy now lives 30 miles from Tampa. She received her Masters degree from Columbia College, Chicago. She teaches literature and English at Polk State College in Lakeland and has recently published poetry in Thirteen Myna Birds, Tinderbox (nominated for Pushcart Prize), Yes Poetry, The American Journal of PoetryRogue AgentDeaf Poets Society, and other journals. Her website is

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