Bloodless

I dreamt that I took I razor and cut

twice

deeply into my thigh.

The white flesh parted from itself

but no blood came.

In the kitchen, my mother lifted her shirt

and her belly was purple.

 

 

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Recuperation

It has been November for so long

but I think we are finally passing into December,

into our winter.

 

I am heavy and tired.

I do not want to be naked

but there is not much left to cover me.

I want to be a frog

or a snake.

Slow blood in tiny veins

hidden away in the mud.

 

It is a long and terrible season.

Can we afford ourselves some beauty in this?

Some joy

by keeping our hearts where the frost can’t reach?

Can we shed everything

and trust there will be growth

when the spring comes?

Autumn

There is a bit of clover still
in the field and on the hill.
There it will stay until
the frost comes to claim it.

I saw the first red leaf today
fall off its branch and float away,
landing softly in the hay.
The first patch of the quilt.

In the ditches, asters grow.
Now we reap what we did sow
and rest when the sun is low,
rejoicing in the harvest.

-from my book “Cornflower Blue” now available on etsy.

Soon

I can feel autumn coming.

It’s in the night air

that smells of decaying flowers.

The moon hovers outside my window.

Dawns are shrouded.

It’s cool breath fights with the balmy breeze.

The shadow trees shiver.

It is growing stronger.

 

from my book “Cornflower Blue”. Now available on etsy.

Crows

Like crows

we picked shiny things off the ground.

A crushed beer can.

A dime.

A rusty car emblem.

How did you spot them so easily,

Father,

with only one eye?

We collected broken things

that no one else wanted.

Said we’d fix them one day,

use them for something.

 

Two crows sit outside my window.

They caw at dawn

which lights my room

full of broken things.

 

My book “Cornflower Blue” is now available on etsy.