About Linda DeMerle

Poet, painter, matcher of socks, archive of random snippets de trop. I've made ice cream cones, sold retail from lumber to books, dressed windows, written resumes, fed chipmunks, answered phones, cared for children which included frequent extraction of 2 legs from 1 pant leg and exploring the restrooms of America. Taught a little art, did a little PR, published poems and creative nonfiction, powdered Robert Novak's nose. I once met Ray Davies. Lovely man. Married with start-up adults. Publication credits include Acoustic Guitar Magazine, The Syracuse New Times, The Syracuse Newspapers, Wide Open Magazine, Illya's Honey, Recursive Angel, 2River View, fishwrap and other small press journals; former editor/publisher of Disclosures literary ezine. Three exhibits of paintings. I love nature, painting, music, beach combing and designing stained glass. Interests include spirituality, art, history and handbags. We live beside the woods with whomever is here at the time with our little black cat amid thousands of loose photographs.

“Equal Opportunity”

We may all have the same opportunities, but some of us have more doors to unlock to get to them.

Enthusiasm

We assassinate our enthusiasm with minutia.

Lake Victoria

 

500 people drowned
in Lake Victoria today

500 people perished
30 miles northwest of Mwanza

I know that lake, where on one shore
the mosquitos carry malaria
that the local people are immune to.
Only visitors fall ill
A lake where ferries are rickety,
overcrowded death vessels

500 living, breathing human beings
Men who loved women
Women who loved children
Children, bewildered by parents
who couldn’t make it better.
All in terror
Mercilessly went down
Without consent they gave up their spirits
Lives sacrificed
on the altar of mammon
by the owners of the death vessel
and a rock unnavigated

Passing ships rescued only 40
Passing ships recovered only 21

No more
were expected to be found.
No more
will be looked for,
is what they meant.
Tanzania Railways Corp.
has closed the book.
They received their fares

Whom of us will mourn?


Published in 
Illya’s Honey, Vol 2 No. 2