pantoum – ONE ART: a journal of poetry

Can Someone Rewrite the Script with a Happy Hollywood Ending?

~ a pantoum

Santa Ana spits his fiery tongue, lashing the night air
with inferno, scorching each patch of earth it touches.
Sirens sing their terror song, birdsong drowns
in the distance of yesterday morning. We woke

to an inferno, see it scorch each home it touches.
We check the maps, pack our go bags, drive into
the distance. Just yesterday morning, we woke up
happy. We felt safe and ready for the new year.

No need for a map. With bags packed, we keep driving,
following a red trail of taillights through orange smoke,
hoping we’ll be safe. Not ready for this, not this time of year.
Nothing quite like this has happened before.

We follow a red trail of taillights through orange smoke
as little fires erupt beside and around us. Lord knows,
we’ve been through nothing quite this bad before.
Be brave, a father says, together we’ll get through this!

his little ones erupting in tears beside him, not knowing
when Santa Ana’s fury will stop lashing the night air.
We try to stay brave. Together, we will get through this.
Sirens will end their terror song. The birds will sing again.

Shawn Aveningo-Sanders’ poetry has appeared in journals worldwide, including Calyx, ONE ART, Quartet, About Place Journal, Timberline Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, Snapdragon, Amsterdam Quarterly, and many others. Author of What She Was Wearing (2019), her manuscript, Pockets, was a finalist in the Concrete Wolf Chapbook Contest (2024) and is forthcoming from MoonPath Press in late 2025. Shawn is two-time Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee. Her children and granddaughter live in California. Shawn shares the creative life with her husband in Oregon.

Freedom Pantoum

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” she growls.
“Because I’m your mother,” I say, “and I have feelings, too.”

When my daughter calls from the 7-11,
she asks me to order junk food online she can pick up from Jack-in-the-Box:
churros, cheesecake, French toast strips, chocolate milkshakes
and I inhale, exhale, and type in my Visa card numbers.

She asks me to buy her supplies from the Dollar Store
and I say, “what’s it like to live on the street?”
and I inhale, exhale, add, “why are you choosing this?”
while internally mantra-ing Al-Anon slogans.

“What it’s LIKE on the street?!” she spits, “I have friends
and freedom and don’t have to go to 10 bullshit meetings a day,”
and I internally mantra words I’ve heard at Al-Anon meetings
like LOVE means Let Others Voluntarily Evolve.

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,
I hear Janis Joplin singing in my head
and it’s hard to let loved ones voluntarily evolve,
so I try bless her, change me and I try the Serenity Prayer.

Janis Joplin was an addict, too: alcohol, heroin, died of an overdose.
“Where do you sleep; are you warm enough?” Her: “a blanket behind a bus stop,”
and I chant, bless her, change me, and I breathe in the Serenity Prayer
every time my daughter calls (or doesn’t call) from the 7-11.

*

Susan Vespoli is a poet from Phoenix, AZ. Her poems have appeared in ONE ART, Anti-Heroin Chic, New Verse News, Rattle, and other cool spots. Susan is the author of three poetry collections and leads Wild-Writing circles on 27Powers.org and writers.com. Susan Vespoli – Author, Poet

Tag: pantoum

Can Someone Rewrite the Script with a Happy Hollywood Ending? by Shawn Aveningo-Sanders

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Freedom Pantoum by Susan Vespoli

Freedom Pantoum

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” she growls.
“Because I’m your mother,” I say, “and I have feelings, too.”

When my daughter calls from the 7-11,
she asks me to order junk food online she can pick up from Jack-in-the-Box:
churros, cheesecake, French toast strips, chocolate milkshakes
and I inhale, exhale, and type in my Visa card numbers.

She asks me to buy her supplies from the Dollar Store
and I say, “what’s it like to live on the street?”
and I inhale, exhale, add, “why are you choosing this?”
while internally mantra-ing Al-Anon slogans.

“What it’s LIKE on the street?!” she spits, “I have friends
and freedom and don’t have to go to 10 bullshit meetings a day,”
and I internally mantra words I’ve heard at Al-Anon meetings
like LOVE means Let Others Voluntarily Evolve.

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,
I hear Janis Joplin singing in my head
and it’s hard to let loved ones voluntarily evolve,
so I try bless her, change me and I try the Serenity Prayer.

Janis Joplin was an addict, too: alcohol, heroin, died of an overdose.
“Where do you sleep; are you warm enough?” Her: “a blanket behind a bus stop,”
and I chant, bless her, change me, and I breathe in the Serenity Prayer
every time my daughter calls (or doesn’t call) from the 7-11.

*

Susan Vespoli is a poet from Phoenix, AZ. Her poems have appeared in ONE ART, Anti-Heroin Chic, New Verse News, Rattle, and other cool spots. Susan is the author of three poetry collections and leads Wild-Writing circles on 27Powers.org and writers.com. Susan Vespoli – Author, Poet

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Like this:

Freedom Pantoum

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” she growls. “Because I’m your mother,” I say, “and I have feelings, too.”

When my daughter calls from the 7-11, she asks me to order junk food online she can pick up from Jack-in-the-Box: churros, cheesecake, French toast strips, chocolate milkshakes and I inhale, exhale, and type in my Visa card numbers.

She asks me to buy her supplies from the Dollar Store and I say, “what’s it like to live on the street?” and I inhale, exhale, add, “why are you choosing this?” while internally mantra-ing Al-Anon slogans.

“What it’s LIKE on the street?!” she spits, “I have friends and freedom and don’t have to go to 10 bullshit meetings a day,” and I internally mantra words I’ve heard at Al-Anon meetings like LOVE means Let Others Voluntarily Evolve.

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose, I hear Janis Joplin singing in my head and it’s hard to let loved ones voluntarily evolve, so I try bless her, change me and I try the Serenity Prayer.

Janis Joplin was an addict, too: alcohol, heroin, died of an overdose. “Where do you sleep; are you warm enough?” Her: “a blanket behind a bus stop,” and I chant, bless her, change me, and I breathe in the Serenity Prayer every time my daughter calls (or doesn’t call) from the 7-11.

*

Susan Vespoli is a poet from Phoenix, AZ. Her poems have appeared in ONE ART, Anti-Heroin Chic, New Verse News, Rattle, and other cool spots. Susan is the author of three poetry collections and leads Wild-Writing circles on 27Powers.org and writers.com. Susan Vespoli – Author, Poet

Share this:

Like this:

“Why are you asking me all these questions?” she growls.
“Because I’m your mother,” I say, “and I have feelings, too.”

When my daughter calls from the 7-11,
she asks me to order junk food online she can pick up from Jack-in-the-Box:
churros, cheesecake, French toast strips, chocolate milkshakes
and I inhale, exhale, and type in my Visa card numbers.

She asks me to buy her supplies from the Dollar Store
and I say, “what’s it like to live on the street?”
and I inhale, exhale, add, “why are you choosing this?”
while internally mantra-ing Al-Anon slogans.

“What it’s LIKE on the street?!” she spits, “I have friends
and freedom and don’t have to go to 10 bullshit meetings a day,”
and I internally mantra words I’ve heard at Al-Anon meetings
like LOVE means Let Others Voluntarily Evolve.

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,
I hear Janis Joplin singing in my head
and it’s hard to let loved ones voluntarily evolve,
so I try bless her, change me and I try the Serenity Prayer.

Janis Joplin was an addict, too: alcohol, heroin, died of an overdose.
“Where do you sleep; are you warm enough?” Her: “a blanket behind a bus stop,”
and I chant, bless her, change me, and I breathe in the Serenity Prayer
every time my daughter calls (or doesn’t call) from the 7-11.