DECISIONS, DECISIONS, DECISIONS *

Three green Adirondack chairs crouch in the snow – pick one

for your afternoon break; one where you will sit and gaze at – at

what? Will it be a mountain-side? Will it be a frozen lake ringed

by a thickly treed forest? Will it be a winding road leading to a 

place disappearing in the distance? No-one has sat in the chairs

for a while; you will have to dust the snow off once you’ve made

your choice. Will it be worth it? 

*From Elizabeth Bachinsky's poem B&E from the book Home of Sudden Service.

 

SOFT COATS THAT GLEAM *

We, this year, have slipped quietly onto the endangered

species list…our numbers have been depleted by 40%

over the past 3 decades. At this rate, we will become

extinct very soon. People complain about us being in

zoos. Some zoos are keeping us from disappearing with

breeding programs and seeing we don’t get sick from Aids, 

or poached either. I’d rather be in a zoo than be shot or sick

on the plains of Africa.  

*From Elizabeth Bachinsky's poem Of a Time from the 

  book Home of Sudden Service.

FROM A DISTANCE AMONG THE TREES...*

I can almost believe I am back home. Almost. 

The day must be particularly hot for me to fool

myself into thinking I’m on the Serengeti and that

the rest of my family are just over there. I am luckier

than most here – I came to this zoo with my parents

and my sister. Many others come alone and have to

make families out of the ones they meet here. Still,

my mother cries for my brothers left behind. So, do I.

She tells me I am safe here, will not be killed, and that’s

something good to remember. I try.

*From Elizabeth Bachinsky’s poem Night Voices from 

  the book Home of Sudden Service.

ALL SIGNS BECOME APPARENT *

unless they don’t. Under the Live Oaks at Hilton Head, red

is a predominant colour. Red-striped awnings, a red accented

lighthouse, red sun umbrellas, and of course, the rows of red

rocking chairs. Red – the colour of passion, love, anger – the

colour waved before bulls to incite them to charge the matador.

Rocking chair red seems somewhat oxymoronic, I think, as

I sit down for a rest.

*From E.B.’s poem To a Future Delinquent from the book

Home of Sudden Service.

THE AIR IS CLOSE AND HOT... *

And we are as much in the jungle as we are on the 

plain – we’re always shown running like horses but

we are savage, we can break the jaw of a lion with a 

kick and our bite is fierce. We could not be domesticated, 

are known for dodging the lasso. Horses were brought

to the rein, domesticated and now number in the millions. 

Our numbers are dwindling. Interesting.

*From Elizabeth Bachinsky's poem B&E from the book 

  Home of Sudden Service.

I WANT THEIR SECRETS... *

They were probably just preening, or sunning 

themselves, but they seemed shy compared

to the others in the rookery, as if they might

be trying to keep something special

to themselves. Perhaps they were falling

in love. Perhaps they were newly expecting.

Anything’s possible.

*From Elizabeth Bachinky's poem Night Voices from 

the book Home of Sudden Service.

GIRLS SWIMMING WITH HORSES *

There is nothing to compare to those days

at the lake when our whole gang rode hard at

sunrise on the shore’s black sand. Lakes still

evoke the scent of fresh-water and horse manure.

I can’t recall what all we did during those times,

I do know we spent hours just talking, reading,

writing, while letting the horses roam until late.

Then we’d remount and horses and wade

deep into the lake just before the sun deserted 

the sky. Those horses trusted us; they swam 

a long way parallel to the land until near the 

road to go home. 

*From Elizabeth Bachinsky's poem Of a Time 

from the book Home of Sudden Service.

THAT BEAUTY CHANGES US *

Or so I’ve heard; you’ll notice I’m not 

the classical swan, the type featured in 

ballets and such. No, not only am I 

the colour of cinders, I have a beak 

more suited to a cartoon duck than 

the delicate gliding waterfowl so often 

shown with their mate, foreheads pressed 

together, long graceful necks forming 

a perfect romantic heart. Not to worry – 

I enjoy being my odd self, I do.

*From Elizabeth Bachinsky's poem For the Pageant Girls:

Miss Teen Motel 6, ET AL from the book

Home of Sudden Service.

THE TREES HAVE MADE A ROOM

Savannah, GA has more Live Oaks than any other place

I’ve visited. They grow so large and so old, they form a

canopy across many streets. I found myself thinking,

I could live in one of these trees, they are so comforting.

What is it about trees that gives one a sense of hope, a

sense of everything’s fine, no need to worry?

The trees have made a room by Elizabeth Bachinsky from

her poem Of A Time from the book Home of Sudden Service.

THE DEFT AMONG US PRAISED...

We are all quite adept with our “hands” you know
and so tired of hearing about Koko (bless her soul – we
know she died recently) – it’s just that she learned to sign
and was gentle with a kitten, a shining and bright light
in the ape world, it makes the rest of us look like slackers
if we just do ape things like: sitting around or thudding our
chests, scratching our bums, or staring into each others’ eyes.

The deft among us praised…by Elizabeth Bachinsky from her
poem Pack from the book Home of Sudden Service.

YOUR FAULTS ARE MINE

I think I’ve always known this and you have known

this too, but we are past the time where wearing

hair shirts or rending our skin will help, my dear.

So, what do you think we should do – shall we join 

an agency of good, and help around the world,

or do the opposite – go join those who do evil.

No, I think not – then all the faults would be mine.

Your faults are mine by Elizabeth Bachinsky from

her poem Valley from the book Home of Sudden

Service.

COLD SUBURBAN CARTOGRAPHY

Helps me map my broken heart, but it never

Lets me find my way to someone new

Or somewhere else, where you are not

Should I lie down on cold white snow

and chart the stars – would they lead me

to another love, or just remind me you are gone.

Cold suburban cartography by Elizabeth Bachinsky

from her poem Valley from the book Home of 

Sudden Service.

THEIR CHESTS LIKE PLANKS

conceal hearts huge that beat steady as metronomes.
Their eyes convey emotions deep as ours – I swear,
more than once I’ve touched my head then heart
and been rewarded with the mirrored reaction from
one of these great ones – these giants not gentle
but oh-so-wise, and near to us in ways unnumbered.

Their chests like planks by Elizabeth Bachinsky from
her poem At Fifteen from the book Home of Sudden
Service. 

OUR SECRET HAND SIGNALS

Right from birth we know how to send them, 

how to move our tiny fingers and our thumbs 

– it’s not quite American Sign Language 

but it is clearly messaging; I need comfort,  

I need food, I need to be changed. Shortly after,

we can show fear, happiness, excitement;

so many emotions - some with our eyes and

still, some with our hands. Soon I'll be able to

make a heart with my hands...I love you.

Our secret hand signals by Elizabeth Bachinsky from

her poem Pack from the book Home of Sudden Service.

SICK WITH LONGING FOR

the Serengeti, I dream my family there,
wonder how they are still running free
but, I am here where people come to stare,
take pictures of me, say how lovely. Lovely?
Is it my patterned skin? Do they know our
patterns are as individual as their fingerprints are?
I hear my eyes are doe-eyed with wonderful lashes
 – I suppose they are spectacular, and my ears –
pointy and delicate are special also. Still, they
can compliment me all they want – I still want
to go back to the Serengeti.

Sick with longing for…by Elizabeth Bachinsky
from her poem Valley from the book Home of
Sudden Service.

IS IT POSSIBLE THAT SUCH A BEAST CAN SWIM?

Swim? Underwater, I am a ballerina! I can hold
my breath for up to five minutes and swim at 5
mph…Even though I know I appear cute and cuddly,
I am extremely dangerous, do kill many people
every year – I gallop almost 20 mph but tend to
trot mostly. I rarely yawn but my mouth
opens wider than any other animal’s. I secrete
a reddish sunscreen often mistaken as pink sweat.
What, me sweat? I’m way too delicate for that…
I’d glow.

Is it possible that such a beast can swim? by
Elizabeth Bachinsky from her poem Of a Time
from the book Home of Sudden Service.

IN ALL YOUR TRASH AND GLAM

There is no-one quite like you – you swallow
my heart, with just a glance; melt my insides
with merely a touch. Me, the original home-
spun gal, have fallen for you – with your
spangles, patent leather, velour, and feathers...

… you make me playlists of songs   
I detest yet somehow have learned to adore.
You’re the bottom to my top and I’ll go along
with whatever you want – you’re my weakness.

In all your trash and glam by Elizabeth Bachinsky
from her poem Valley from her book Home of 
Sudden Service.