POEM TO 4:40 P.M. ON MARCH 20,
Spring Equinox.
A moment of equanimity –
without strain or
excess–
just the sun
crossing the celestial
equator,
day and night like a
scene
painted by Vermeer–a
balance held
in perfections of light
and dark. Or,
like proverbial twins,
each of them
finally content they
are both
loved equally by their
mother.
WHEN MY MOTHER CALLED
in memory
It was always the same
four words
to begin: Hi, it’s Mom honey,
as if I could ever not
recognize
tenderness when it
arrived,
the well of kindness in
a voice.
And the conversations
that might
follow: what did you think
of that article?
How is the new coat working out?
Oh you looked so
beautiful!
I am loving your book,
I need to get groceries
today.
I’ve been thinking of
when you were young, and all
those years with your
father, how sorry I am
I was so distracted by
sadness then.
What time are you picking
me up tomorrow?
I’ll be waiting at the
living room window;
no, that’s okay, no
need to get out of the car,
I’ll be there, looking for you honey, always.
On Dreams
They crowd in,
hogging all the room in
my sleep,
not life-altering or
technicolour
like you read about in
inspirational memoirs--
more like busted puzzle
pieces,
or wrappers tossed from
open car windows
to flitter across the
roads,
or jumble sales in
church basements
where it is upstairs
that Light
burns through the
magnificent windows.
(first published in Her Joy Becomes (Fernwood
Press)
After Not Being Chosen to Read
at the Emily Dickinson Event
No matter, I remain
Nobody
for now,
passed over--
But isn’t there still
singing from the cherrywood desk?
(first published in Her Joy Becomes (Fernwood
Press)
Three Acorns from Emily’s Yard
I pocketed them that day
the tour guide was not
looking.
I nodded to myself that
she
would not mind for me
to hold
in my palm and carry
home
such Possibility.
(first published in Her Joy Becomes (Fernwood
Press)
Andrea Potos is the author of several collections of poetry, most recently Her Joy Becomes (Fernwood Press), Marrow of Summer (Kelsay Books), and Mothershell (Kelsay Books). You can find my poems most recently in The Sun, Poetry East, Potomac Review, Braided Way, and The Sunlight Press.
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