I
a shrinking circle of dishwater
snaps like a summer window closing
phantom gasp a moving on
china wrapped in tissue in cardboard
boxes marked with indelible ink
II
I hear the brook
Repeating whispers
Like a daddy long-legs
tripping over my hair
Like a deep tremor’s
Slow build and sudden stop
A burst from my motorcycle’s engine
The wheels fling mud back to the brook
III
Newspapers are wedged in his mailbox like acorns in a squirrel’s cheek. I wear his missing autumn like a stole-fox, bullet hole—until Easter.
(An Intimate Retribution. Wigestrand forlag, 2009)
Thank you for taking the time to read/listen.
I hope you have a great week!
Warmly,
Ren Powell’s Acts of a Recovering Drama Queen
Writing against Melodrama by Engaging with the Natural World
Give some love. It only takes a little ❤️.