Contributor: J. "Ash" Gamble

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She's been getting ready to leave
for years now. Scratching at the door
like a lonely, amorous cat.

She pads along the hall at night,
smothers herself sometimes in her
own memory, and fights me tooth
and nail.

One day, she wandered down the street,
fully nude, and the neighbors had to help
me catch her.

I'm looking, she keeps saying, looking
for him. I have to wonder if I am him.


- - -
J. “Ash” Gamble is a late in life poet from Florida.

Contributor: J. "Ash" Gamble

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Lucille was my purple queen,
with short hair.

Always thought I would prefer
long hair, but her curls made it
worthwhile.

She loved purple and the sounds
of Southern literature and whiskey
sours.

She moved purple, regal purple,
and taught me how to believe in
the sound of my own voice.


- - -
J. “Ash” Gamble is a late in life poet from Florida.

Contributor: J. "Ash" Gamble

- -
We packed our suitcase in the night
but still could not prepare.

We put our house on the market, but
still nothing could help us.

In the upstairs where our children
collected their cars, slept their nights,
then left, we stayed huddled and peeked

below as the level we lived and loved
on filled slowly with grimy water, our
dreams filled with splashing sounds.


- - -
J. “Ash” Gamble is a late in life poet from Florida.

Contributor: J. "Ash" Gamble

- -
One minute she's a sweet
lavender smell of flowers
and the next she's a wearing
headache of fury,
One minute she's love
and laughter rolled into
a ball of sexuality
and the next she's a storm
cloud of anger, sparking
at my bare skin


- - -
J. “Ash” Gamble is a late in life poet from Florida.

Contributor: J. "Ash" Gamble

- -
One big damn year
all the snakes came out,
beat all I ever saw,
and we spent months
stomping them with boots
stabbing them with hoes
and avoiding snapping bites
each time we went
in the yard until the time
ended and they all went
back in their holes
and so did we


- - -
J. “Ash” Gamble is a late in life poet from Florida.

Contributor: J. "Ash" Gamble

- -
I laid my father to rest
in his pristine suit after
watching the wolves of life
and bottle rip at him,
I named him in his crib
of death the way he named
me at my deadly birth
and in that moment of double
breasted peace and quiet
the two of us became one
man in the same suit

- - -
J. “Ash” Gamble is a late in life poet from Florida.