The latest issue of Gyroscope Review contains poems by women who have ‘been around the block’.
I’m delighted that my poem “Chapters” is included. This is the second time I’ve been published in this wonderful review.
Read it on Amazon Kindle or at: http://www.gyroscopereview.com
Or below:
CHAPTERS I'll try to clean up before I go although I don't yet know when I'll be going, for the sun still hangs in the sky, a bit pale, diluted now, but still it's the sun I've always known. Who can tell how long the light will last, or when I should start peeling off possessions, lugging boxes to the curb, giving away the black silk skirt made out of Dior scraps which belonged to that French friend whose aunt once worked for thefamous couturier. She'd sneak cuttings home at night to stitch into new beauty which I didn't wear often enough, and yet I don't want to leave it for the grown children to stuff into a plastic bag, cursing the heavy dull weight of loss, of my leavings, of Broadway Playbills kept in order, rusted lids and canning jars, unwaxed Rossignols. Let's not even mention the books no one wants with their crepuscular bindings, their thin pages cracked like egg shells. I'll try to get rid of them before I go for I know that no one will ever read Anna Karenina the way I did, happily ensconced on a window seat, sixteen years old and home with a head cold, Mother pouring tisane into a cup and handing it to me, while the December rays eased their way across the floorboards and the days, though short, were growing longer, and I still had chapters left to read.
Gabriella Brand 
Your poetry always leaves me with a feeling of, yes, me too. I love the description of the silk skirt, how you didn’t want it to land in a garbage bag. I understand this cleaning out when my mother died. How we don’t see ourselves quite ready. Bravo for this piece.
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“…the sun still hangs in the sky, a bit pale, diluted now, but still it’s the sun I’ve always known…”
A lovely thought to keep in mind as we ‘of a certain age’ make our rounds drawer to drawer, cupboard to cupboard, sorting, reflecting, cherishing, or tearing into pieces to affirm a woe long past!
Thank you for a poignant reflection that draws you nearer on this cold October day.
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I’ve read and reread this poem, Gabriella. My thoughts, but expressed in a way that I couldn’t duplicate. My husband and I had a conversation at dinner the other night about my mother’s crystal, my few pieces of Quimper faience that I love, the other “treasures in the hutch that I face when we eat in the dining room. Who will want these things and all the other “treasures’ that have accumulated during all these years? There are things I cannot throw away or sell, or get rid off, leaving that awful job to my children when I die. Maybe one of these days, I’ll be brave and set about clearing away what needs to be cleared away. Thank you for this poem. Louise
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Dear Gabriella…Thank you for the new poem. John is starting to help me get back(?) to
the computer as I am finding all manner of things I want to investigate.
Did you get a covid booster? We did and ached a day and slept a good deal. Will call
after I have consumed your poem. Ginny
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