At Summer’s End by Alexandra Ernst
In the ocean of eyes,
yours like a late summer pond,
sunlight and darkness uniting,
take me by surprise.
In the ocean of eyes,
yours like a late summer pond,
sunlight and darkness uniting,
take me by surprise.
The sun is hot though it is September.
There are crêpes au chocolat to eat
with sweet remnants sticking
to small fingers and mouths.
There are two things I hate getting in the mail. One is my Visa statement and the second… an invitation to someone’s Baby Shower!
The tutor plants the tiny seeds;
words to dissect and analyse.
Beauty in Autumn
Colorful leaves
Rainbow in trees
In the heat of an island,
a miracle of desire spun
through me while you,
wrapped in your watery cocoon,
clung to the web of my body.
The humid, salt air seeped into Tracy’s nose, waking up the portion of her brain that processed childhood memories — the part that she’d purposely let fall into a quiet slumber for the last month.
the promise of possibility, the fatigue of loss
Torpid as a slug crawling on concrete,
fuggy cloud wrapped around my sticky limbs,
I sit breathless in September heat.
A clang on the metal trout
nailed to our wooden door
snaps me to attention
Sweet peas cling to their climbing frame,
a shower of mauve, pink and blue.
The sun stayed up late warming us
and pale elderberry wine cleared minds
while garden chatter murmured.
It is the time of year
When October steals the daylight.
I am learning to cultivate the art
of nothing,
to be still as a chandelier pendant
in its crystal beauty
Yesterday is a small box closing
Upon each one of my bones, those warriors.
Primitive, I am a shadow of the woman ancestor
Who sanctioned for me parts of herself.
A girl with a pierced upper lip approaches and beckons me to follow her. She introduces me to Destiny.
She searched the Island, from the Bronx to the Seaport, for something as spectacular as inspiration or Love.
the soft torch of her life he burned down
Passion,
In the dark
Of one’s heart,
In the back
Of one’s mind
The shutters
yielding slices of light
like slivers of cake
You beam
like you won
the Power Ball
She and I have traveled here by
separate roads, pushed our way through
underbrush, pricked our skin on nettles
and thorns.
I rest against the rough solid trunk and tilt my head back, as I’ve done so many times before. I slide down to lean against the very part of the tree that held me as a child.
My children are growing faster than flowers. Time is slipping away and the one consistent piece of advice I got when they were younger, “Enjoy them while you can,” terrifies me because I didn’t listen.
In these deaths there is a renewal.
A putting away of distraction and finding, in this new solitude, a place of expectant joy.
Waiting for our soul’s
Coming of age,
We embrace
Change
Mantras repeated
Pouring rain
washed my soul
cleansed my body