Tag Archives: poem

Beneath It All

CIMG5680 - Version 3

Love’s a hitchhiker,
so innocent in its leap
that it doesn’t register
torn seats or sunroofs
but simply hears
come on in
and feels that smile
like a warm winter breeze,

but relationships
are rarely so simple:
the car must be washed
repaired, replaced
and trips planned
and changed with the
frequency of newborns’
diapers amidst increasing
conflict till compromise
shatters
like a windshield at eighty
against a centennial oak

but love, love is not so
complicated—once stripped
of metal and fuel it
shimmers naked, senses
open to sky and skunk,
blizzards and vistas,
and it’s never

blind but radiant as a star
and enigmatic as a body
after the heart’s
final
beat.

 

Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.

wpc

Galloping

Charlie Horse (1 of 1) - Version 7

when I ride give

me not a saddle

but the force of

blood-filled muscles

moving against

my thighs and salt-

wet hair rubbing

moist threads from jeans

 

let me not ride to

save myself from

walking but to

fill with wind and

thunder as we

gallop pressed so

close hooves and

breath are mine

 

Thank you to the editor of Something Like Homesickness for first publishing this poem. Thank you N. Garvin for your beautiful photo of Charly.

I Had…

Collies, gold and white                          fist strikes

Running beside me                                 palms slap

As I explored                                             foot slams

Orchards of oranges and owls,           me against the floor

Beaver dams                                              hands rip

Abandoned in summer.                         heads off my dolls

 

Polished maple posts                             legs spread

Stretched sheer white lace                    forced apart

Over my head,                                          by arms wider

A walk-in closet                                      than my thighs

Held handcrafted horses,                     I can’t speak yet

Stuffed elephants and bears.               can’t say no

 

Chestnut horse,                                       nurses jab needles in wrists

Flaming in the sun,                               cold fingers bruise me

Neighs soaring in the wind,                asthma restrains me

Swift as a kite                                          muscles tear

To ride away                                            as I lunge

On.                                                             for air

 

Thank you to the editors of The Sonoma Mandala: Literary Review, Vol. 17 for first publishing this poem.

Assemblage horse by Dickens.