Dark Lady Poetry - Charlotte Beard




Charlotte Beard

 aka Rebeca Linney 



Fruit Salad in the Back Galley


Below me- constellations with the names of cities,
immaculate borders of farmland suited
top to bottom with particles: neurons, dust (saw and skin),
inescapable synaptic explosions:

The first time I tried mangos Yvonne
brought them sliced, orange and steaming
the slippery insides of her zip-lock. I plucked one from the bag
to smell before I bit into it.
I wondered at varieties, Tommy Atkins and Kent.

Over the twinkling cities I eat a piece of mango sliced
the same way, long like an apple.
Below a farm boy scratches his head and stares at the constellations
remembering the first time his mother
handed him a lily to smell - the fragrant Stargazer.


A Dream


Holding his rusted trombone,
my brother explained we were at
the bottom of the earth.

The rest of the world's oceans
were pressing down on our sky
and it sustained slightly
like an invisible, leaky dam.

In the narrow grey of the parking lot
he smiled and played a children's song
told dirty jokes,
and watched the salty water's
pressured imposition
on our small atmosphere,
like the kinked hose
above an overhang in the dirty lot.





Blown particles of thistle surf the wind,
some laying down, others twirling upright
like delicate ropes being let go once wound.
White feathers trickled like snowflakes during the orange twilight.

We watched airplanes.

The earth bent under our figures, I turned to her,
face light as if the sun were inside her.







Rebeca Linney is a writer and learning clinician in the bay area. Her poetry is generally contemplative but whimsical and based around the concept of self and of the other. Her previous work has been published in New Forum, the Undergraduate Creative Writing Journal at UC Irvine.