Yvonne Morris

LONDON RECALLING

We took the double-decker to the end of the line,
arrived in a London suburb—this was adventure.
Still there was a shop for tourists, and I found
a black mini with tiny white dots, a skinny
belt. We bought vinyl—UB40, the Jam, and
the Clash. We rode the tube back to our once
grand hotel. Did I see Boy George on a bicycle?

TWO PEOPLE, THE TREES, AND EVERYTHING

There was a phone conversation followed by a visit to your parents’ home,
circled by giant trees hovering like watchful guardians. We were younger
than the trees, and we moved into a barefoot apartment—
years later, a funeral-shoes apartment. We bought a house,
planted saplings. Then we uprooted, lived apart.
We sat in shadowy offices and stood in classrooms with rows of windows.
Blinked in endless sunlight.
There was a total eclipse.
There was a phone conversation followed by a walk in the park near
the wrinkled lake. Today, we put on our jackets, noticed the turning leaves.

Yvonne Morris is the author of two chapbooks of poetry: Busy Being Eve (Bass Clef Books) and Mother was a Sweater Girl (The Heartland Review Press). Her work has appeared in Eclectica, ONE ART, MacQueen’s Quinterly, The Galway Review, The Main Street Rag, and elsewhere. She earned an MA in Mass Communication from the University of Kentucky.