Poet: Valentina Cano
Crossing a Bright Room
She walks with feet of coral,
all air holes and sea water,
two floating organisms
that travel across the room
without her consent.
Her smile trembles,
a clothes-line tugged,
as she nears the group
who closes itself off.
A lock clicking shut.
Her steps never falter,
her hands limp at her side,
but her dress sways,
revealing skin flushed and dry.
The fabric is a ripple of seaweed
that refuses to be tamed.
A Kind of Forgiveness
I ground the anger into a powder
that fit in a thimbleful.
It rested on the porcelain,
dubious, squirming with energy.
I forced it to hold itself
like water, always at the moment of spilling.
It held for a day,
maybe two,
as I gathered loose socks,
as I carved out meal after meal
from our kitchen table.
Without warning,
one tired grain gave up the fight
and fell to a cascading death.
Its fall rung in me,
an echo in reverse,
that forced my head open
in an aluminum can’s scream.
Thrilled to be a part of this!
I am delighted to have you involved Jessie! :)
Multidimensional, intriguing and brilliant. As usual. RR