Between the Lines

The Waiting Room

Queens and poets
are living out their convalescence
hidden in chambers
like spies of the state

They live among us
withered bodies
masking their true glory

Wheeled from cafeteria meals
to “Let’s make a Deal”
by attendants that feign affection
“Mama it’s time for your nap.”

Lovers, babies
wars and home
washed away in yesterday’s laundry
though like stains on an apron
deep pools remain

Look for them in their ruins
seek out these Odysseans
you will find them waiting
waiting to tell you their secrets



Death of Hypatia

I don’t like to think about your last moments

and the rage of that misogynist crowd

I’d like to think that you knew what was coming,

laid back and became one with the night sky

until each piece of your flayed body

became a star in the cosmos

a constellation by which I navigate my journey



Her Name is Written in Water

You will not find her in your textbooks
though you fan through the pages for a glimpse
fumble to put Hypatia’s pieces back together
travel through the alleys of Rome
on Pope Joan’s final procession
you will leave with more questions that when you began
she is lost in the pages of HIStory

Illuminate the cave of your mind
follow the scratches of the cave bear
searching through the dust
you find no rib
just a pool
let it mingle with your pillar fo fire
looking deep inside
there you will find her
the Mother of all

Lora Douglas’s focus is on the healing power of the humanities. She has experience as a professional musician and is the graphic designer for C.U.R.A., Inc. She attributes her love of words to her mother and grandmother who spoke to her in poetry throughout her childhood.