These days I work
the garden—pulling
up the old, turning
the soil for the new.
This keeps my ghost
in prosperity—a bright
exhaustion; bright yet
unsensational. Parsley
& tomatoes & peppers
to inquire into the silence
that inquires into me.
I imagine I’ll love people
again, eventually. But not
today—& not up close.
I’m learning how time,
its blank shimmer, plays
across my absence which
is not quite absence, not
anymore—it’s greener
than absence, closer to
ritual, a strategy against
the debasements. Ignored
by the goldfinch, I hum
to the dirt, requiring no
crumb of compensation.
Sunlight buries its body
in earth, compost sets
forth its gift of rotting,
from this rotting blooms
my emptiness. Nothing
to be but silent here, amid
the thirsty miracles. Why
continue making such
noise—no matter what
I say I'm saying hold me.
2021
Regular
Contemporary
Faith & Hope
Joy & Praise
Love & Relationships
Nature
Poems of Place
Alliteration
the repetition of the same letter or sound at the beginning of words appearing in succession
Asyndeton
the absence of a conjunction (for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so…) between phrases and within a sentence
Extended Metaphor
a metaphor that extends through several lines or even an entire poem
Polysyndeton
the repetition of conjunctions frequently and in close proximity in a sentence