Summer Sales

Last day of Irish summer remembers December blues.
Sun played hooky again
emphasizes another shortcoming of the Northern Hemisphere

Retailers recreate January sales throughout July
confident no one will notice
tattered clothes from two seasons ago.

Childish expectations inspire a window check,
each day,
Believing today might be spent by the lake.

Disheartened to see buoyant pillows of grey
mandates a new plan for this,
the last day, of summer.

Shake down the house for change
rummage out a colorful umbrella, matching sandals
for a last day of summer euro shopping spree.

– L.J. Lenehan –

Seventeenth of July

The stigma of trauma; with me since the seventeenth of July –
Magpies carried our cries as far as the Bonsai of Shanghai.
Death used his chest as an armrest; enjoying the hue of purple.
Distressed; the priest came to bless his cardiac arrest –
Medical emergency attended to with modern zest.
The aroma of coma; slowed my composure –
Community predicaments – exposed in the enclosure.
Bedside vigilance attended in increments –
Prayers from the innocent; delivered fearlessness.
Five days later, his eyes finally opened, exposing the fear –
Hugging with happiness; the future unclear.
No memory for four weeks; the doctor said there was no certainty –
Angry delirium; he never understood what was happening to him –
Calling with plans of escaping; my heart broken with whims.
Tests, medications, surgeries left him in oblivion –
A condition so rare; they could not cure – it became wearisome.
Agreed to testing; in aid of helping the next generation.
Devastation; an obligation of stabilization from Sudden Adult Death Syndrome –
A modern miracle fought on the battle fields for one more chance –
To say, I love you.

– L.J. Lenehan –