The path is always the same
The sequence is always the same:
The door of the school
The sidewalk
The sloping walkway down the hill
The concrete bridge over Ann’s Run
The crossing guard on Main Street
The gas station
The climb up Davis Street
The parking lot of the apartments
The empty lot with the long grass
The short stretch of Gordon Street that connects
………….the disjointed blocks of First Street
Mrs. Coffman’s house
The turn from First Street to Liberty Avenue
Home
The same pattern
The same routine
Day in
Day out
The door of the school
The concrete bridge
The crossing guard
The gas station
The parking lot
The empty lot
The disjointed blocks of First Street
Evenings spent with Mrs. Coffman in front of her coal fire
………crackling embers
………acrid smoke
………the warm sitting room
………the cold never-used living room beyond
She wasn’t my babysitter
I chose to visit her
I don’t recall our conversations
or her first name
only our connection
………The door of the school
………The concrete bridge
………The empty lot
………First Street
………Mrs.… ...continue reading
Along the moonlit river tame
A silent vessel glides
Where maiden voices grace the night
In silvered choral tides.
All robed in white, with flowered crowns,
They lift a vesper song.
The water listens, hushed and still,
And bears the prayer along.
The gentle hymn the moon receives
From hearts unsmirched by day.
It drifts like incense o’er the stream
And keeps the dark away.
Then sudden mirth the stillness cleft
With torch and timbrel wild.
Red smoke in wavering circles swept
Above the singers mild.… ...continue reading
Those lovers’ stains
will soon coalesce
on the burgundy flannel
sheet like old Polaroids.
But they needn’t breathe on it,
timing the minutes. Their fixative
might just be the moonlight going
down across the tarred road.
*
In the turquoise Android photos
taken around the pool
last July, you can almost hear
a belly smacker but this one,
developing where they laid,
whimpers into the box springs: Oh
man. Oh God. And later: It feels
so cold. Let me stay
over on your side.
– Christopher Dungey… ...continue reading
my heart keeps monitoring the precious memory
from when your eyes first met mine.
my arms are now full of your phantom
presence, as I attempt to bargain with you, telepathically,
to join in recovering every missed opportunity to
have been brave enough to go at our own speed in
finding what true love is all about,
rather than rushing
to each milestone, rather
than holding onto each other
so tightly from being afraid of
our passion resting, even if only
for a little while.
I mourn you and I,
and the wisdom that evaded us in
those early teenage days.
just the mere thought of your face, or the slightest utterance of
your name, sets the flame in me fully ablaze.
– Tony Nicholas Clark
Author’s Note: I wrote this poem while reflecting on teenage love and how, while often brief, it can leave an impact on us that never fades.… ...continue reading
My body
not her choice
Her body
not his choice
Not my body
it was his choice
His choice
not her body
not really
– R.A. Murphy
Author’s Note: This is my first published piece and I have hopes for many more. I worked for a year and a half as a social worker for a sexual violence resource center in my college town. I only worked there for a relatively short time, but that type of work stays with you forever. Nothing will wash away the feeling of someone holding your hand while they’re getting a rape kit completed in the emergency room. And I think it’s supposed to be like that for a reason.… ...continue reading
I’m just a servant
Who serves these
Words,
Inky sentiments,
Nearly sentient-
And the mind
Works on her own time,
Sometimes,
She works against mine.
I’m just a maid
Who cleans up after these
Thoughts ablaze
And they swarm
Like bees in a summer haze,
You cannot force them in a cage,
And sometimes they say messy things
So,
Someone must oversee them.… ...continue reading
the collar i turn up
against the cold
reminds me
draws me back
to a life
before
when
rushing cold against my skin
meant you
drawing near to share
your warmth
your life
cascading
out of control
drew me to
its flame
its fury
its fate
sealed
by visions
and missions
and empty streets
in dark
of night
falling
about us
capturing heart and soul
entwined
in this dance
of despair… ...continue reading