​

Sky River

                                                          

Her body

broken

like the ceramic

shards of a doll.

Is there beauty

in the sharp

edges?

 

She reaches

for the sky.

Stars press

close. Cloud

People help

her fly. Pull.

Hold on.

 

She crouches and

covers her head

amidst a meteor

shower. Unfolds

and places

a star in front

of her face.

She transfers her

energy into

the mask.

Light flows.

 

First horse,

Celeria,

comes near.

They glide—

follow a fluid

ribbon in the sky.

Water pours

like ambient

sounds.

A ritual to put

her body

back together.

​

​

​

A Montage of Leaving

 

I can eat chocolate alone but decide to invite Mary

for a picnic by the pond. I’ve known her a long time.

 

I wake early and go to the corner store. Select

midnight swirl, maple crunch, and hazelnut. Silky

 

ganache, creamy pralines, dark chocolate raspberry-

filled artisan truffles. Rich, dark, and smooth.

 

Next, gather mint leaves from my garden to steep.

I bring a blanket and mint tea. We sit on the plaid

 

throw in stillness. Eat slowly. Melting, sweet, messy.

Sip the steaming tea. Moisture fogs my glasses. I’m

 

eating chocolates with a primitive spirit. Wild geese

honk and come near. We are not afraid. We laugh

 

over the hum of bees. She points out the blue irises.

I enjoy this last bite. Candy flows like a stream

 

in my mouth as it fades into the horizon. Melts

into a tide of quiet tears. It’s bitter that she’s

 

gone. Yet, I am grateful for the gift of seeing,

sensing about nature and life in her writings.

 

The first time I saw her read, she held the room

in silence. No dramatic performance. Few words

 

introduce each poem. Just the magical breath

of each syllable. Even the sad and difficult

 

were gentle. I was a new writer like the seeds

of a cocoa tree. I absorbed the nutrients

 

of her thoughts. Her poems watered me by soaking

into ripe soil. Filled my thirst. Now I say farewell.

​