“Tightrope”

the littlest exclusion   

draws my attention from the tightrope   

of my life—   

pulls my concentration   

from the next step   

forces me to waiver   

as my attention perceives   

something wrong in my periphery   

one misspoken word   

one invitation unsent   

one empty promise   

pushes me off balance   

makes my steps falter and fail   

Where are you?   

under me with a net?   

beside me with encouragement?   

ahead of me with assurances?   

your disembodied voice   

carries concern   

yet you never come   

you never have time   

you never share my heartbreak   

beyond an obligatory phone call   

as you unthinkingly   

plunge me into an abyss of loneliness  

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

“I Dreamt of You”

I dreamt of you last night   

vivid images   

sitting across from you at a table   

your hands toying restlessly with a cup of stale coffee   

impatient for a cigarette in this smoke free room   

the scent of your perfume mingles with dust and mold   

as you laugh at my inane joke   

my attempt to tease you away from your grief   

I dreamt of you last night   

a muted mirage   

mimicking reality   

your haunted eyes deep set and dark   

desperately darting here-and-there   

avoiding my scrutiny as I peer through your façade   

sensing sorrow under your kind words   

as you offer support and comfort to me   

I dreamt of you last night 



"Study of Two Woman Grieving" by John Flaxman
http://www.metmuseum.org/en/collections/search-the-collections?ft=Flaxman%2C+John+(British%2C+1755-1826)&rpp=20&pg=2

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Pretty Girls”

         Some mornings pace out like a stretching cat, slow and sinewy. I find time to write, jot off a few emails, or even read an article or two before my daily routine kicks into overdrive. This morning, Mom woke up complaining that she felt sick. We’ve begun to suspect that really means she’s hungry. After two huge pancakes soaked in syrup and a mug of heated Boost, Mom retreated back to bed, mumbling that she felt cold and instructing me to tuck an extra blanket around her.

         My unexpected free morning led me to peruse Facebook, where I stumbled upon a magnificently powerful essay written by Ashley Judd. In this piece, she articulated her frustration with our society’s obsession over physical appearance. She blasted the media for its derogatory attitudes and agenda when dealing with women.

         I wish every Hollywood actress and runway model would throw away her scales. I wish they would fire their trainers and their private chefs. I wish they would eat sensibly and eat well. I wish they would exercise for health and not for wealth. I wish they would never visit a plastic surgeon. I wish they would embrace crow’s feet and cellulite.  I wish they would unite and declare, “No more size 0 for me!”

         Wouldn’t it be lovely to see our women gently embracing life’s events instead of battling against nature? I’m tired of pregnant women dieting because they want to be within five pounds of their “pre-baby weight” once they deliver. I’m worn out by women who guzzle wine and puff cigarettes to control their appetites. I’m exhausted by the queries of my fifty-something friends on whether a facelift or Botox treatment would make them look younger and sexier. I’m tired of seeing friends starve themselves into bikinis that really should be worn only by younger women.

         I challenge my fellow females to look into their mirrors, see the “flaws” and to declare, “I love the crinkles around my eyes when I smile!” For you see, everyone’s beautiful when she smiles.  

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/04/09/ashley-judd-slaps-media-in-the-face-for-speculation-over-her-puffy-appearance.html?fb_ref=article&fb_source=home_multiline

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Tuffs of Koi”

         This winter, two year old Koi donned a luxuriously heavy fur coat. Whenever he sat in my lap, my fingers stroked this soft pelt with delight. If I wanted to massage the dog’s muscles, I had to delve under inches of fuzz before I’d feel skin.

         The warmer weather of spring means Koi leaves bits and pieces of his coat throughout the house. He loves having his fur groomed and often brings his chewed up brush to the couch, so one of us can comb through his fleece. He adores the attention and pampering that he gets when I run the brush through is hair.

         However, over the last few days I cannot keep up with Koi’s shedding enough. Everywhere he goes, he leaves little fluffs of himself. Since he follows me throughout the house, clumps of white trail from bedroom to hallway to Mom’s bedroom. Koi loves perching on the back of Mom’s dark brown sitting room couch where he spies upon the neighbor’s cats. Lately, he’s left so much of his coat upon the loveseat that we could’ve cloned a second Koi.

         I hate vacuuming and don’t want to haul out the machine every day to collect these little tuffs of Koi. Instead, as I move from room to room with my daily routine, I keep an eagle eye out for the cottony down. By the end of each day, I’ve collected quite wad, and I keep thinking that I should recycle this fur into something functional, but . . .

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman