Ovation
If
this is my last poem
may
my words continue.
I’ll
relax in breaths of finality--
I’ve
joined in the laughter,
the
clapping after music,
a
hearty dinner, frivolities
in
all its forms.
I
stand in ovation
for
strong backs, working hips,
and
hops to places that I wish
never
to leave.
I
will stay--
with
those who love a porch,
a
bloom of bougainvillea,
a
dry, but crooked path after rain,
and
the presence of every two,
four,
or eight-footed living thing.
If
this is my last poem,
I
will rejoice in the fluency of thought,
but
still mourn because there is room for that
in
a world that goes on with or without me.
The
Dahlia's Lament
Alone
with your dad
and
his present:
a single red dahlia
which
I potted in fresh soil,
and
placed in a shaded far
corner
of my garden.
On Mother’s
Day
you
are 21, in Denmark
without
a plan in your pocket
but
to see a girl.
my
dahlia,
Your
Ophelia,
damn
Denmark.
I
am at the start
of
every mother’s
journey.
Monarch
in January
One
January morning, from an unseen corner
out
flew a Monarch, this queen of color,
braving
in winter the flight of fragility.
While
generations retreated
from
ice and wind and frozen limb
this
one butterfly,
tired
of migrating away from cold,
against
all instinct found, between frozen airways,
space
for her coral wings to nest.
As
she landed on my snow brushed glove,
icy
star tipped flakes on limp, felt fingertips,
began
to melt.
Icarus
Flying
Before
the fall, Icarus flew—
Every
bird, curious and jealous
of
his unabashed wingspread,
and
how he, unjaded as a starling,
approached,
on the verge of victory,
the
open, forgiving blue tear
between
the nefarious clouds.
With
austere abandon, we seek,
in
what we love, the same victory—
Hoping
our wings will withstand,
but
in the end, it is not the strength
of
feathers and wax, or splendour of flight—
What
astonishes is knowing
at
the journey’s end, how to land.
Laurie Kuntz is a widely published and award winning poet. She has been nominated for a Pushcart and Best of the Net prize. She has published two poetry collections (The Moon Over My Mother’s House, Finishing Line Press, Somewhere in the Telling, Mellen Press), two chapbooks (Simple Gestures, Texas Review, Women at the Onsen, Blue Light Press). Her 5th poetry collection, Talking Me off the Roof, is forthcoming from Kelsay Press in late 2022. Many of her poems are a direct result of working with refugees in refugee camps soon after the Vietnam War years. Recently retired, she lives in an endless summer state of mind. Visit her at:
https://lauriekuntz.myportfolio.com
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