Poems Submitted for April 9, 2021

Life Lessons

My knuckles are white holding on tight
Your whole life I have kept you healthy or as safe as I could
Now you are in control and I can only hope your skills are good
Look out! <-> Don’t shout
As we are moving and talk
I think - I should walk
It’s not so far that we needed the car
I sigh through my strife
I know it’s just life
This too I will survive, your learning to drive.

Foraging
By Aiden Ramirez-Tatum

I once imagined this house with you
I thought, a house with many rooms,

I pictured, a house with pea-green walls
I crafted handfuls, tornados, squalls,

And I thought that you'd be here with me.

(—and instead; Ozarks, pines, and the river:
a tall tall man outstretched forever)

I crush hickory nuts on a log
I walk in the dewy morning, maybe a dog

and I feel your absence.

Mourning
By S. Atticus O.

mmmmmmmmm mmmmmm cawmmm

Good morning, Crow
                               Good morning, Crane.
Any dreams tonight?
                                    A few, and you?
Another letter - years ago.
                                   Might my name?
O, yes, little bird, your scrawl.
                                       Where it flew?
From?
                                            Yes. You?
Home.
                                                   O.
Crow?
                                                Crane?
I’m sorry.
                               I know.
                          Me too.
                       I know

Dear—

I have searched and searched and still
I have not found him. Not as you describe. You
now on a calved slick of ice, in your chair,
sailing somewhere alone. The thread
of your voice turns skyward, into a scrawl
of cirrus that will soon
cross the sky over the backyard
where I stand, chiseling
ice.
               It’s February.
               You overhead in your
chariot, riding the cloud circuit, administer
the cure.