Today's poem is by M.J. Iuppa
I've been thinking of all the words
that have rearranged my life:
words like pine opening
its cathedral doors & emerald quiet;
hammock the whispered
conspiracies of sisters overheard
in summer's high fever;
shadow twilight flickering red
through a stained glass window
something left of that fire
like a smudge of cloud in lake skies
reminds me I work by memory
and struggle to perfect a story
beneath a calm surface.
This afternoon I took an hour
to walk the back fields with
a weed stuck in my mouth
and a stray cat around my feet.
I wanted to improve what I say
I can see the last days of winter,
nearly gone in the precision of rain
a month of mud, of ruts, of minerals.
that smell like rot, like love, that
dirty word, telling more than I wanted.
To say dark flowers bloom on wallpaper
and a wasp preens on the sill
names the invisible.
I've told my versions too many times.
Copyright © 2016 M.J. Iuppa All rights reserved
from Small Worlds Floating
Cherry Grove Collections
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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