Three Poems by Sally Quon

 

Imagine

 

Imagine a star

falling from the heavens,

slicing through the atmosphere,

breaking up, burning free.

Punching a hole through your roof.

Coming to rest

on the pillow, next to your head.

 

Now,

moment by moment,

remind yourself

how lucky you are

to have stardust on your pillow

 

to be here,

to breathe freely and

to wake each day

knowing the sun will also rise.

 

Steep yourself in gratitude

before the next star falls.

 

In Response to Meteorite Crashes Through Ceiling and Lands on Woman’s Bed

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/14/world/canada/meteorite-bed.html

 

Dreams of Flying

 

Swirling mist

Shades of shadow and light

Freckles of moisture

On bare skin

I swim through the air

Breathing fresh

The scent of clover

 

Moonlight

 

Moonlight gathers in pools.

I dream of splashing in it,

painting myself in silver mystery

so I can walk unseen in the forest.

Pine Marten and wolf,

Whiskey Jack and willow.

 

I will fish for salmon

with the bears.

 

I will dip myself in bioluminescence,

swim with the jellyfish,

dance on the shore

beneath the highway of stars.

 

Moving like mist through the streets and towns,

I will reach out,

gently stroke the memories

of people I pass

so they pause, smile—

try to remember

nights of moonlight past.

Sally Quon is S a back-country blogger, dirt-road diva, and teller of tales. She was a finalist in the Vallum Chapbook Contest for two consecutive years. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies including “Better Left Standing,” Catlin Press 2022.  A disabled writer from Kelowna, British Columbia, Sally is an associate member of the League of Canadian Poets.