Moon over Mountains

For my grandmother

You write in flowers

Bright phrases edging over wooden buckets

Guarded

By chicken-wire on posts

So the dogs won’t sneak in

And eat your colorful poetry.

I was splitting perfume into bottles

While you were in your bed with her.

You told me not to bother with you.

You told me I’d come too far

To find nothing in this place for me.

It cracked me when you said that.

Sent fissures down my spine in waves.

I didn’t tremble like I’d thought I would,

But I turned and left your house anyway.

I couldn’t stand the sight of her

With your arms entwined.

And the breeze blew blue

Across slippery stone steps

Along tall angled walls

Where the wide white

Clouds cast changing shadows.

Next to loafing rolling hills

Past the murky marbled mire

Just before the weather-worn shore

Sprawled a kind of crumbling castle.

Upon a wind-battered buttress,

In view of that weather-worn shore,

Perched a winged watchman,

A spirit from the briny sea,

An albatross atop the fortress

Flown from far away.

And to the Angels

And to the Angels - singing high

On thrones of craggy rock -

I speak not whole truth,

Not even to these, God’s friends.

Unexpected Places II

(This is a poem I wrote recently. I’m not really a poet, and it needs editing, but I’d love some feedback!)

That sharp feeling

Of your hipbones in my thighs,

It made me catch my breath.

The surprising strength of you

Under and above me

It was breath-taking.

And your slow softness

In places unexpected

It caught me unaware.

-Sara F.