Monday, December 31, 2018

Two-line Poems for New Years

Four months of sadness 

enough to move 
just one more step 

up the hill past the creek 
where they threw two suitcases 
out a car window 

planting blue and yellow 
weeds in clay 

or a story 

in these tired eyes 
still looking up 

to see the moon. 


Pacing herself 

a metronome 
sounds 
the floor 

of her bog 
of a body 

cattails tickling
an ear 

where that 
conch shell 

flows 

red whispers 

to the sea.

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