I painted over one hundred thousand paintings

I painted over one hundred thousand paintings
Just this morning
When I ate breakfast at two PM
They disappeared

I painted over one hundred thousand paintings
This morning before breakfast.
And I’d like to think they’re still there
Somewhere unseen
Like the rest of the world.

by Hettie Jones

          . . . my wolf . . . at the foot of the bed / in the dark all night
                                                                            Maxine Kumin

Asleep among
these twice reflected
city lights, I dream
an axe in a corner

to sever and clobber
the rock hard
impervious words

Nevertheless:

fourth floor, bed
newly made
for me to
once again
lie in it

by Hettie Jones

Think about it: someone
shoots your buddy dead —
so you grab your gun

and the blast you send
strikes the heart of the matter —
another murder

making two, and neither is you
since you’re the one
who lives to run

and run you will
so think this through
it could be you

by Hettie Jones

As you advised,
I am wearing
the sweater
I won’t be wearing
after I’m dead

I’m wearing it
while I still have
choices

to leave myself
open or buttoned