photograph
-
Haircut
The Braid Its weight unfelt until absent, the braid lies on the hair dresser’s table. No tears in my chair, she said, and there were none. In the Twenties, this was scandalous, women cutting off their hair. What’s left is grey. Today women cut their hair when the divorce is final, or when he… Continue reading
-
Thunder Moon | Revision
It woke me at midnight. It touches everything, the photographs on the far wall, the chair that rocked me on my grandmother's lap, this bed in its summer whites. It's quiet, stealthy. If I sit still long enough, I can see it move. But the light in this room does not move. This… Continue reading
-
July 12, 02008 — REVISED
It’s a dark night, a slight moon. The scar remains, pale silent stitches from wrist past elbow. She held herself together. She healed. They used a saw to remove the cast. It screamed. She wakes in the breeze of the ceiling fan, sinks into deep mattresses; the sweetness of strawberries; tart lemon cake; the… Continue reading
-
10 June 02008 Snapshot Poem
Photo by Bonnie Sue Pinkerton I wake this June morning to storm warnings, white caps on the mountains, dogs curled warm against my knees. Even with the dogs, this bed is too wide, too cold. The sky darkens and snow falls into the valley. I comfort myself with cappuccino. Tomorrow is your… Continue reading
-
Biography of a Crow in Three Lines
Each morning she called the sun with her three-call Caw-Caw-Caw | Caw-Caw-Caw — until light came up behind the mountains. She flew into it. That light. Continue reading
You must be logged in to post a comment.