Tag: poetry
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It is a mystery
It is a mystery, some prefer to say. But this loss holds me still, years of confusion, hunching towards this, that — perhaps spiritual decline, perhaps a more ordinary plight. Either way, the residue stains. It is that purple stubbornness I cannot separate from, prevents perspective, cannot see at all if not through it.
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Girl with father in emergency room, 1983
This is the dance we made together, when justice broke open on our laps. How we spun that night — me shifting, you spilling, our learning together that wild-beating fear — boiled as one into a speck, set to carve our way through years, to now, and on. As the stars rise through the night,…
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All things dissolve
holding out, holding in breathing out, breathing in revolving in, out of grasp rolling forward, retreating glow of strangeness, familiarity a curtain swaying across the sill between isolation, intimacy images flip, return to face me who we were, who we become where we were, where we find ourselves what we knew then, what we still…
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All last things
i. all last things packed into tiny bags, duties, remembrances, cleavages, rejoinders peeling back slivers of known things, yet to learn things — putting them aside ii. It is a kind of love to be sure that draws us into this chapel to tend your last things, a blouse, a parent, a book, a lunch…
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Muse
all the books we read together you over my shoulder, I over yours in the stumbles over words, unwieldy sentences, empty space before thoughts slowly form when we wander without aim you hold your breath, allowing chaos to braid into sense and unravel yet again
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Clarity
I cannot say it all started that night but that is when it became clear: dark, full, swelling wounds of inobvious origin bursting their seams, flying upon us all. This is not the thing we are meant for, not what we read in stories of educated ladies eating yogurt and bagels, drinking coffee in earnest…
Poems from in between 