I wrote you a letter yesterday, while the sun slid down, our son squalling in his sheets. I wrote, I filled three sheets word by word, letter by letter before I turned the lights down before I sang him down to sleep, and down came the rain in rivers and in sheets. This much is … Continue reading What I wrote
Under a tangled arch of willow, ivy, and rose, she presses me back, back, against the rich loam, back, her fingers sly, her smile arch, her lips tipped with rose. Ever since the moon rose she has loved me well: my back is a bow, a lover’s arch. I arch my neck, cursing the rose-tinged … Continue reading My fair one
The things I forget are simple. Not your face, Or the color of your eyes (blue, with hints Of grey and gold, like the sea at dawn.) I forget the sound of birds marking the dawn, the taste of salt, the touch of sun on my face. I forget the shape of us. You left … Continue reading Castaway
On this perfect day I watch you throw rock after rock into a mountain stream, Your words a constant flow, a stream of consciousness; all day I lean against this rock and listen while the trees rock the sky to sleep. Clouds stream across the edges of the day. What would I not give for … Continue reading Idyll
The dogs of war are coming. They slipped out behind my words And are baying at the moon. Who would have guessed the moon Would be so long in coming? You never heard my words. And now I marshal words To defend myself; only the moon Sees the battle coming. I am coming to take … Continue reading Havoc
Christine Hanolsy 