Solitaire

*published in Garfield Lake Review, 2021

Can I see you ? 
I ask, silently, 
into Sky 

I see speckled breast, 
a flash of red wing. 
vibrato in the air, my heart 

Where does the light go -
or should I say - 
who takes it? 

The green is in my eyes,
and on the bottoms 
of my bare feet 

And still - 

the Red Dirt calls 
to me: 
paint me across your cheeks
and across your breast and
down your thighs 

Will I take flight then? 

Can I see you? 
Can I see? 

Can I see 

- a sigh - 

me?

Again

*published in Garfield Lake Review, 2021

the silver moon
dips below the edge of the velvet lilac cloud
blush rises
in the sky from the points of the trees
at times I feel painted too
and gilded
by the last rays of the sun
then the night descends
and the shadows grow deep
and I remember all the words you have said
and all the words you have denied
tiny silver moons leave glittering trails along my blushing cheeks

Known

*Honorable Mention in the Carolina Woman Magazine Writing Contest*

In blades of tender grass 
and opulent black 
raspberry bushes edging the woods, I look 
for myself.

Barefoot, I pad along the steaming road, 
incense of sun-ripened pine 
filling my breast, these green giants incline 
toward me with every zephyr, benevolent 
nudging toward an exploration 
I cannot see.

My hands and lips are 
sticky with nectar berry, 
I'm green at the knees, 
jewels of dew drops and 
slugs garnish my legs: glittering 
stockings. Tiny sun-yellow 
cowslips and Queen Anne's lace 
crown my hair, speckle my skin.

I am neither girl 
nor child 
nor lost 
nor found, 
yet 
embraced and subsumed.

 View on Carolina Woman