Details |
Eleni Cay Poem
The shelves of your forehead wrinkles
are still undusted. I scrub them clean with hot tears,
carefully placing selected stories
on the continuum between you and me.
I twine our joint years around your neck,
covering you with Wisteria flowers.
In that royal coat I make you believe
there are no blue and red granules
in our blood.
(This poem is from Eleni's pamphlet Autumn Dedications, 2015)
Copyright © Eleni Cay | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Eleni Cay Poem
Rivers of bright reds and browns sink into the soil,
sugar maple surrenders to silence.
Winter has little mercy for the colours of life.
But in early spring, buried bulbs rise, ready for the new toil.
The sun forces out a new drop of blood from the inner bark,
desire born out of suffering pulls roots from beneath the mud.
(this poem is from Eleni's pamphlet Autumn Dedications, 2015)
Copyright © Eleni Cay | Year Posted 2017
|