a thousand encounters in the sky
i used
to wonder
why i never
meet people
like me
lying alone
on the hot roof,
watching clouds
merge and part
i understood --
it’s because
they are like me
there were
clouds
the next day
too
and the next
abandoned house, manitoulin island, ontario
she was a doorframe
she was the window in his blood
she breathed slowly by the sink
and thought of a tree in bloom
a warmth in her thighs
against the snow of the day
sunlight quavered in a bowl of water
he held the phrase matrimonial privacy
a mouthful of nails to hammer a stair toward the bedroom
winters later
he curls no larger than a loaf of bread
under strips of wallpaper
mewling for home
late in the year
shelterless bird song
floats through rain,
darkens clouds
still, you can find me
the dandelions I dedicated to you
shine in wet grass
*
like young girls, one after another,
trembling --
each skittish tree
lights and rustles
under the sky’s
reckless caress
*
still in the mind of the beloved
the leaf is trembling
green on the black branch
even after
this sky swallowed
the winter wind
James Owens divides his time between Wabash, Ind., and Northern Ontario. Two books of his poems have been published: An Hour is the Doorway (Black Lawrence Press) and Frost Lights a Thin Flame (Mayapple Press). His poems, reviews, translations, and photographs have appeared widely in literary journals, including recent or upcoming publications in The Cortland Review, The Cresset, Poetry Ireland, and The Chaffey Review. He blogs athttp://circumstanceandmagic.blogspot.com
Then sooner or later i was alone on my mat at domestic and carefully positioned my hands at
ReplyDeleteProHomeworkHelp.com the mat and allowed my body to transport into this unnatural feeling of being the wrong way up. My legs commenced to drift up.