Cristine A. Gruber- Three Poems

Empty Nest

I miss the summer evenings

when you came home warm,

a lightness to your step,

a smile a glance away,

a clear twinkle, a lighter air.

There was more noise in summer,

though we never thought of it

as such. It was merely the vitality 

that season brings, resonating 

throughout the hills and valleys. 

Winter is quieter, and colder too. 

We walk through the frost

in black and white moods,

hugging frozen sweaters

to freezing extremities.  

 

"Empty Nest" was first published in The Poet's Haven in December 2013.
 

 

 

Heed  

              

I hear you

through the cries

of stoneware,

each clash and clatter

bemoaning the pains

of a misguided life.

I pause

in sympathy

for the pots and pans,

absorbing the brunt

of the blunt force

trauma. Flatware

fares no better,

clattering

to the floor

as you curse

their innocence.

I cower,

remain behind,

choosing to heed

the wailings of the

cabinet you kick,

the door you slam,

their mutual cries

exuding

fair warning;

stay clear.

 

 

 

After You Left

It took but five days for me

to realize how much I enjoyed

parking my car in the garage,

the newly-cleared space

motivating me to clean house,

take stock, sort through, let go. 

I cleared the closets of all you’d left behind,

donating personal items to charity,

selling the furniture on Craigslist.

Your tools I gave to a neighbor,

while the books I kept for myself.

The food, I ate. The wine, I drank.

Your mail I sorted, then forwarded

appropriately, every decision logical,

each choice perfectly sound.

The broken walls in your study

I accepted I couldn’t restore,

the foundation cracked beyond repair

in your unprecedented haste to leave.

I stayed but a few months more,

then quickly moved on as well

to a new home across town,

a precise miniature version

of all that had come before.

Come the spring of the first full year

since the day you walked out,

I found a pair of sunglasses

tucked away in a near-hidden

compartment in the console

of my car. Never used by me,

the eyewear was yours,

present all this time, but

unacknowledged ‘til now.

I held them but a moment,

then dropped them to the ground,

crushing them with the heel of my red Payless pumps.

The air was crisp and healing

as I finally drove home at last,

clear radio blasting, Let it Bleed, by The Stones.

Bio:

Cristine A. Gruber has had work featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, The Endicott Review, The Homestead Review, Iodine Poetry Journal, Miller’s Pond, The Penwood Review, Poem, Thema, The Tule Review, and Westward Quarterly. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, was released by Infinity Publishing and is available from Amazon.com.