Sandra Died

grey skies pour slush on
white roofs
iced branches fall on
white snow
grey tire tracks on
grey road
a green Perrier bottle half-full of frozen sap
the only colour.
My camera has broken so
I commit the scene to
my slurry memory.
I look out the window
a warm fire at my back
a cat squirmed under my arm
thunder under my feet
the window frame grey
the wet picture
underlined by green seedlings:
lupins, marigolds, zinnias
and a sunflower that is expected to bloom
Love Laurie, April 6, 2023


We usually celebrated our birthdays together. Our 40 th was in Cuba. This pic is from 2012, our 50th.

pink sunflower

Remembering Rebecca

I found this today:

I wake up with cramps

and her with holidays.

She drives me to work.

She laughs.

Sunshine Beauty

become me your laughter.

Raise me home.

Drive me to work.

Laugh me life.


What a sweet summer memory. My work was daycamp counselor and it took 2 buses to get there. But I was looking for this one:

Sitting, holding the railing

on the back stairs here,

in case I fall off.

I lost you.

Rebecca was under my heart.

Rebecca was on tire swings.

My house is quiet.

Sometimes I forget to pull a breath in.

How was it?

I lost you.

Even the cat here has died.


Happy Birthday my sweet baby girl.


freckled face

today my amaryllis bloomed orange

dotted with red.

today is the first day of a war.

on tv, a soldier with green and beige spots said,

“they honestly think it’s an honour to die for their country

and we’re going to give them the opportunity.”

it’s an honour for him too, I hear.

when I sleep I dream of children

splattered with blood,

the amaryllis

big as a freckled face

jan. 16, 1991

Laurie Fraser’s Answer to Steve Forbert’s Toast to a Midsummer Evening.



Laurie Fraser’s Answer to Steve Forbert’s Toast to a Midsummer Evening.

Here’s to fat women eating large ice cream cones

nattering past my bedroom window.

Here’s to vicious baseball games,

a drive to nowhere,

hot bars,

sweaty women.

Here’s to Mr. Alcoholic dead at 2 a.m.



banging his wife.

Here’s to two litters of kittens in the kitchen.

Here’s to bags of charcoal and pot and Cheezies,

butterflies over the tiny uncut lawn,

old songs on the radio.

Here’s to noisy, bossy kids,

heat in my days

love in my ways

D.Q. on my waist.


Living in Mechanicsville in the 80s

Aidy Lady

Aidy Lady




Wash the damn clothes

Fry the bacon


Kiss him good morning

Retch on the way out

Hey Lady

Aidy Lady

You’re married and you love him.


Look Luke

The house is burning


Find another.

Crawl in,

Oh Fat One,

and make it a home.

Fat, Fat

To the laundrymat.


Tonight he wants roast

The dog craps on the floor

And the Aidy Lady cries.


He’ll be horny

Think he was borny horny

Fat asks,

“This is love?”

No, crow,

But don’t look for something better

You’ll never find it

Life’s behind it

Never ever find it.