Category Archives: poetry

Poem of the Day

I love this poem. I love it the way I love my own skin. It’s like this poem belongs to me. I’m a woman who burns her bridges, leaving blazing fires in my wake. Sometimes, amidst the ashes, regrets are born.

BTW, I’m going camping for a few days and won’t have internet access.

Antilamentation

by Dorianne Laux

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by

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First Snow

Yesterday it started to snow for the first time all year. I remember as a kid it seemed that snow was a much more common occurence. And there was more of it. Often times it would come to my waist as I plowed through it, bundled warmly in layers of clothing. Granted I was shorter then, but these days it only seems to drop, at a maximum, a few inches. But I’ll take it.

 Overnight as I worked, carefully tending to the sick and dying, I kept my own silent vigil on the windows, watching  huge frozen flakes form halos around the glowing flourescent lights of the parking lot. There’s something soothing about the still of air after it snows. Everything is padded and sound is stifled. 

 

 

Here’s a little haiku for you all…

 

First snow falls softly

covering faded imprints

 of  footsteps long past

 

 

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