by Carla Joy | Apr 16, 2018 | Archives, Poetry
She stretches and wiggles Clinging to her mother’s knee Gaping at the saucer-sized cookies In the refrigerator case Her eyes are a-gog Suddenly she spies my cookie And, quick as a flash, She prances over and takes a bite Smiling at me A total stranger But keeper...
by Carla Joy | Apr 16, 2018 | Archives, Poetry
The afternoon sunlight highlights her brunette hair cascading over her brow and falling over one shoulder She absently pulls her fingers through the tangled strands as she frowns at the physics textbook before her The figures spin and intertwine like the knots in her...
by Carla Joy | Apr 16, 2018 | Archives, Poetry
She sits in the back corner of the cafe Like a well-worn fifth edition Of the Betty Crocker Cookbook Greasy paged, notes scribbled in the margins Open to the recipe for tater-tot casserole And how to stretch hamburger To feed a hungry family Only now the children are...
by Carla Joy | Apr 16, 2018 | Archives, Prose
The first day we moved into our house on a tree-lined street in the sun-kissed town of Pasadena, California, a young girl appeared at our door. She had round, apple cheeks and a gap between her front teeth that matched her wide open smile. “Hi! I’m Anita....
by Carla Joy | Apr 11, 2018 | Archives, Prose
I have been blessed with wonderful girlfriends at every stage of my life. The next few posts, I am going to describe these laides and share how they influenced my life. Sandi Howie I met Sandi as a little girl in “First Form” (kindergarten) while my family lived in...
by Carla Joy | Apr 2, 2018 | Archives, Poetry
I wrote this poem after reconnecting with a friend over Easter vacation. I have been struggling to write a poem about her for years…it finally flowed. Coffee Cafe Customers: The Quilter My old friend sits at the table like a lump of dough. The discontent rises...
