Category: Issue 14.1

budding blossoms…
a love poem for no one
in particular

flower show
the woman with the glads
undoes a button

first spring ramble
a wedge of geese pries
the sky open

winter’s end
the way the light changes
when I’m with her

daybreak the cold edge of the bed

pink sunrise
the scones he
used to bring

my apology
hard pears left
to ripen

another spring still waiting for your voice

consolation in each raindrop the sea

an irregular pulse
earlier each year
bluebirds

Earth Day
the world in a grain
of polymer

 

never before
and never again
. . . cloud’s shadow

beyond the black stump a shiver of ghost gums

winter’s grip —
remembering what it’s like
to be touched

the lies i believe in forsythia buds

lake effect snow —
he has an answer
for everything

separation
a crow’s caw across
an empty field

passing strangers
on a rain-drenched road
we turn back
to ask their stories
. . . finding only mist

crescent moon
how the other half
have always lived

job centre —
touched by the misery
of my case worker

 

Elsewhere

All the balloons that touched the ceiling now sink low enough for the children to bat them like inflatable clowns. Life retreats to the corners. Helium cheers

art house films
the life before
I had kids

my mother’s recipes
what’s missing
and what’s gone

I find an old letter
from my mother
dead four years —
we’re doing fine, she says;
we’ve had a little rain

familiar tune my children’s voices above the mountain stream

 

ripples on
the pond ~
small talk

bird song –
an incomplete sentence
each time

gibbous moon —
the blur of clay
on a potter’s wheel

an evening
of tangled thoughts . . .
through branches
even this rugged moon
looks tattered at the edges

 

 

(originally appeared in American Tanka, June

wallpaper stripping the years of her life

obituary
things about my father
I never knew

mayfly
no time
to look back

dog-tagged
the thin cold metal
next to his heart

a sandstorm…
calm
only in the hourglass

 

 

 

(originally appeared in “The Mainichi,”  April 8, 2013)

drought
the rain gauge
two-tenths dust

Ooroo

As I wait for the evening bus to my hometown, a stray sidles up to me, sniffing with a dusty nose and occasionally brushing it against my jeans. She then settles

woodsmoke
and autumn leaves . . .
in a dream
I set out on a journey
to find you again

escaping
over the neighbour’s fence…
purple lilacs

a dandelion
amid vinca—
our differing perspectives

living
on the edge
cattails

through eyes of rain leaf light

poetry reading
the smell of humus
in the drizzling rain

rainforest entering me the quiet

writing
a
haiku
the
bottom
drops
out

 

from behind bars the moon pale faced too

against
the blue
the blue
fly flies
against
the pane

endless sky
the hawk’s gaze
on its tether

 

chardonnay . . .
the scent of summer
in a blue-throat’s song

purple clematis…
changing her wardrobe
into summer

 

 

(originally appeared in Shamrock Journal, Issue #26, 2013)

the longest day
a sky blue Cadillac
drives slowly by

warm winter afternoon
the bike shop door
locked

spring fever-
in the parking lot her cycle
rests on mine

 

the town stud
with the gold Olds
room enough
for the whole world
beside him

kite string
the hum of the wind
in my hand

fingernail moon
my mother sharpens
her words

new galaxy
a pomegranate
splits its skin

back in time and space isn’t much matter

autumn equinox
his ex gives him
half a hug

July heatwave
sugar peas
lose their sweetness

August ends
everything gone
to seed

childhood song —
the rhythm of women
threshing grain

making
a long story short
fall

summer bonfire
the Christmas tree lights up
one last time

 

 

(originally appeared in Prune Juice, Issue 11, November 2013)

mistletoe
 our kiss lasts
  past the doorway

summer’s end —
the secrets we wrote
in the sand

freeze warning
pulling the final carrots
alone

ice storm
chemotherapy
postponed

last leaves –
his white breath dissolves
in the garden

end-of-season
one after another
the     carnival     lights     blink     out