Susan Twiggs writes poetry and picture books. Her poems can be found in The Fox Cry Review, The Avocet, a Journal of Nature Poetry and others.
The Night before Surgery
this is the last worst decision?
What if I’m the one percent,
the patient my surgeon remembers
until his final day?
A gnawing voice in my darkest cell grumbles,
its whispers barely audible.
I ignore it, racing from one task to another.
At midnight I wake in a sweat,
take a deep breath and wonder.
Red Cedar Review UW/BC 2016
Bobcat sits staring—
This is my territory,
hazel eyes demand.
Returning his gaze,
in the vacant house.
He sits upright,
in the gravel yard.
Is he stalking prey?
Is she protecting her young?
She turns away,
slipping between thin metal bars.
We leave the house,
the property secured
by its feline possessor.
The Weekly Avocet, 2016
Where Do Memories Go?
I find them in the parlor
sitting on Grandma Lizzy’s mauve settee.
I hear them in the ticking clock.
12:50, lunch is over—
time to walk back to St. Boniface.
I inhale the scent of Irish breakfast tea
from her flowered china cups.
I tug open drawers in Grandpa’s roll-top desk.
His black ledger lists expenses from 1913.
I see him entering his accounts,
the figures in longhand.
I sink into velvet dining chairs
recalling holiday feasts, the table
laden with platters of frosted snowmen.
I wrap myself in memories
as warm as a woolen shawl.
I close my eyes, and they appear.
Recollections rise up like roman candles
bursting into flaming balls
of chartreuse and rose.