John, I hope the Jersey sun
shines on your hands. Here,
clouds stretch into oceans
of clouds, and birds melt into liquid
flight. From the east rain approaches
like a paw, snaring the weekend.
Last night, I spied your gibbous eye.
A crow as dark as my father
dropped from high, blood
blackened by a virus
from a mosquito's dirty needle.
All last week I stayed inside.
I sleep with hands horizontal.
God dresses in your voice, and it buttons
me in dreams.
Janann Dawkins, Michigan, USA
6 comments:
Jannann Dawkins says: I have written poetry for over twenty years. My work has been featured most recently in _mad swirl_, _Anastomoo_, _Blinking Cursor_, _The Tonopah Review_, _Tipton Poetry Journal_, _At-Large_, _Taj Mahal Review_, _Alba_ and _MiPOesias_; also, I have work upcoming at _The Stray Branch_, _a handful of stones_ and _The Ambassador Poetry Project_. My chapbook, _Micropleasure_, was published by Leadfoot Press in 2008. A graduate of Grinnell College with a B.A. in American Studies, I now reside in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Jannann, this is an excellent poem from beginning to end. I feel you speaking from you heart to John. Hope all is well.
terrific piece!
"last night, I spied your gibbous eye" is only one of the vivid, clever images.
(and Juliet--I love the new look!! I usually peek through my reader. I'm so glad I popped over to see what I've been missing!)
Excellent, tactile images. The free verse is just how I like it—with a hint of meter.
Thank you Michelle, angie and Judo for reading and for leaving your encouraging comments. I appreciate any and all feedback (even tough criticism) from readers. Such comments are the only way for authors like me to improve.
Thanks again.
This poem is filled with striking imagery -- the oceans of clouds, the gibbous eye, the crow dropping from the mosquito's needle, and both his and her hands, to mention just a few. The whole of it is beautiful.
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