Category: Poetry

Here I am

stuck forever, baby,

in your teary basalt eyes.

One day I ran away

from school, down a long

hall of doors closed.

Sun shining, first bridge was

walking distance, no plan after.

I rest my forehead against vibrating window glass.

It was hard to look past the glare of city lights or

the fog of warm breath

but life bleeds through its filters and forced me to watch.

Seven deer stand knee-deep in the blooming water, ears pivoting forward and back, mouths dripping duckweed, they reap the summer harvest.

Make a glad noise; it is

spring. Up from the snow the crocus has

sprung, fresh from its rubbery root; it

bends back its head and opens its mouth

to hallelujah sing.

And when the moon and four planets lined up last night

Saturn was plunged into Pensacola Beach.

We could not see it, so plunged was it,

way below the Gulf.