To be alive is power – Emily Dickinson
We don’t expect
to be here tomorrow
so we are ruthless
with our small lives
we pump fragrance
into the morning
jewel the afternoon
bend our petals
like thumbs at night
after the scrape of drought
cloud is our deliverance
water comes down
in silver wires
and ants twitch air
between our roots
the rough lick of the hose
leaves a cleft for diffidence
the crest of
a worm’s tender head
we eat bones
blood and meat
and our own bodies
and yours
About Erica Goss
Erica Goss is the winner of the 2011 Many Mountains Moving Poetry Contest. Her chapbook, Wild Place, was published in 2012 by Finishing Line Press. Her poems, articles and reviews have appeared in many journals, most recently Connotation Press, Hotel Amerika, Pearl, Passager, Main Street Rag, Rattle, Eclectica, Blood Lotus, Café Review, Zoland Poetry, Comstock Review, Lake Effect, and Perigee. Erica is a contributing editor for Cerise Press, and writes a column on video poems for Connotation Press. Please visit her at EricaGoss.com.
One Comment
I like the athropomorphism,the color,the life and vitality of your poem.Thanks Erica