30

The soft
spring breeze
saunters
through the screen door
as though it knew
how we longed for it
dreamed of it
in our winter hearts
It whispers
of warm, green days
of dirt and sprouting seeds
as it carries April away

28

White
is absence,
the absence of pigment
of fertility
of time

White
is hard,
the hardness of tooth
of bone
of stone

It is not vulnerable
like green
alive and pulsing

It is not fluid
like blue
brimming and rippling

White is brittle, bleached
leached
a bleak remnant

White is what is left
when life is gone
and even decay is done

26

I sit with the moon
when everyone else
is tucked away, dreaming
I recite the stars
like a litany
rolling them
around my mouth
touching each tooth
one by one until I have
emptied the sky

25

I hold the disk of the moon
under my tongue
and count to one hundred
I feel it dissolve
as the silvery coolness
slips down my throat
curls in my belly
I swallow the moon
then keep her wisdom
in my blood
under my skin
no one knows
but they can see
I am radiant

You might want to take a peek at Verse Escape.

 

24

Pride sits
on a broken throne
in its hands, a tiny
shiny blue alphabet

Pride howls
alone on its throne
in the wee
hours full of bluster and bite

Pride clings
to its slippery throne
ringed by
angry fires
listening to the fiddler

Another for National Poetry Month, the subject is from Real Toads, where they suggested we write about the seven vices or virtues.