Through amber winds
I hear
the haunting, grey whisper
of a woman drowning
in a memory —
in a memory-
that cannot float.
Photographs by Heather Landis
Tag: poems
Pale Planes
paper planes swoop–
glide
over the sweet salt of the sea
loop around rosy lips,
pursed.
they fall into a pucker,
then a kiss
which dives
crashes quick
deep into the belly of everything
“Pale Planes” by Meaghan Merrifield
Artwork by Claire Pestaille
http://www.saatchionline.com/ClairePestaille
Haughty is the Head that Wears the Crown
Frame
crisp colgate teeth
line up to greet
his the mouth
which easily espouses such buttery sounds–
such a face calls for a crowd,
necks obligingly stretch–
crane
appease the self indulgent game
upsetting, nauseating
need for recognition
praise
fame
frame
emptiness contained
“Frame” by Meaghan Merrifield
Artwork by Franz Falckenhaus
Our God is an Awesome God
The bodies have been thrown,
face down,
in the dusty, amber mud.
Their boneless chests
and pale, pearl bellies
hang
like dying vines
over silent hills–
with
arms outstretched
in praise of a master
both dead
and alive
in the heartless sky
“For Him” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: “The Hills” by Patty Maher
Two of Us
in the african twilight
an abyssinian nightjar
came to me
mournful
and
broken
for he could not speak–
he stepped into my palm
cautiously
so that I could hold
his silent will
against my own–
and we were two
voiceless creatures
alone
together
” I See Myself in Him” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Not While you Watch
When I walk with my sister,
her brassy nose pokes
at the jumbles of space
between today
and yesterday
where growth begins.
Her steady eyes
lurk
Behind violet skin
and sunburned chins
to stop my spirit from
reaching too high.
She
is the ‘Never’
that slaughtered my ‘Perhaps’.
“Sisters” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: “Twisted Sister” by Brooke Weeber
http://society6.com/bweeber/Twisted-Sister-5HZ_Print
Face of Glass
Once,
I slipped my hand into the pocket of your winter coat
and found the stolen slivers
of a woman’s scowl.
I put back all
but
an eyebrow
that bends effortlessly into
ocean
and sky–
it can be pinned on
in naked moments to
erase
all signs of me.
and
Though it bites
with the dull pain of a rotting tooth,
I cannot bear to live
without it
“The Things We Keep” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: “Barbie” by Jordan Clark
The Show Tell Project 