Tag: poem
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To be certain,
let me first spend some of each day, some of each breath looking after what is true- the purple star flower of a flax seed true Sun Golds like Easter eggs on a late August vine true the squinty red bloom of a Desert Rose true an Archipelago of clouds in a great blue sky (like…
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July
for AG Come to me slow, and easy and empty let me breathe right here in the thick of it wring water from my spine so my hips sit tall and fill with the fluency of your flowers with the shades of your contentment until every last golden jungle has been etched into my skin so I…
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where the ice pops take us
yesterdays pool water cloudy & scooped todays peach-parched begonias dead heads too last nights grill scratched clean now ‘nother round of dino jungle it’s your turn Wavy chalk drawn roads where tiny toy cars go bubbles blown by baby’s breath dance delight float on hawks squawk and birds call loud fast-moving preybelow shade is cool…
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becoming water
when it became clear the cancer was going to be the thing to kill her; that the slow growing malignancy in her brain was going to be the thing to carry her away from us, from her body, from the beautiful life she’d created, she booked and kept her annual reservation at a yoga retreat in Costa Rica…
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two by two
stacked rocks fall I stack them again to be sure to be sure. two wicks burn the same candle spirits alight; bodies of fire. ranunculus petals fall one on top of the other like even in death they can’t stand to be apart (even in death.) about these poems a family I don’t know personally…
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the eyelash on my cheek
it’s too soon to give it up the familiar galaxy I sometimes feel beating the gape of my chest. its flutters have wings, ancient and strong and still, I don’t yet know how to make it fly; don’t (yet) know what to do with it besides know that it’s there and it needs my…
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When We Were Ocean
I did not know color even as I could feel your blue, your sudden waves of gray sunk deep beneath their verdant vegetation. I could not have imagined the intricacy of your eyes; how a holding pattern could bleed two watchful pools of self-reflection. When we were ocean I did not know what to call you, nothing…
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statue of limitations
I sit alone off the Southern Coast of Rhode Island, anchored to nothingness, the ever-moving Atlantic is restless and keeping watch of too many silent exiles to count I am a tiny speck of land; an afterthought of sandy blonde beaches rising to meet each Kelly-greened bluff giving way to that great gray puddle of sea…
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EXCLAMATION POINTS
when I spray the 10-in-1 hair perfector on my dry(but-not-yet-splitting)ends the miracle spray smells like my adoptive sister Rachel smelled for most of 1989 it feels strange then, in 2025 to miss and remember the smell of an old black & white perfume bottle more than a person. after deciding last year that I’m not…
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the Scarf
begins a vacant sweater empty, inherited wool itchy and unbecoming easily caught up, I tangle and hang by each thread pilled and snagging on every pattern every thorn I have. the threads expose my inaptitude bring light and shadow to my weakest equilibriums. I find (in time) a pencil eraser worth of footing…
santos scribes 