A Poem

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

I
unravel
the last piece
of tinsel from the
tree, but it catches
on my anxiety, winds down
through breakable ornaments
and bad memories, tangling
impressions of family gatherings,
tightening the roar in my ears as I’m
grabbing my children to stop them from
wrecking a relative’s pristine house of glass vases,
shiny baubles and everything placed in perfection just
So.

What a pretty Christmas. Such lovely tinsel. Such strong silver string
drawing an end to something inside me that will never be allowed to
begin.

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Poem

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

The first bones of winter
stare at me in the naked forest

Fallen trees scatter my trail
watched by complacent pines

still upright in their fitted skulls of snow
Branches freeze in mid-reach for my touch

They don’t know I, too, am cold
My head wilted by guilt, I walk faster

before the new snow casts judgement
But before I leave, a cardinal splits the air

- like an impossible choice

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A poem

Photo: Lisa Alletson

Tell me your mind
in the silent conversation
that takes shape
across our chessboard

Tell me the sweetness
of danger between us
when I fork
your exposed pieces

Tell me the thrill
running up your spine
when you move
and I pin you between us

Tell me in en passant
without words
as we nearly touch
but don’t

Tell me
your every
move with your mind

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