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after ali
by Brynn Dizackthe summer earth is restless:
there has not yet been a day without wind
it torments the trees,
force-exposing the underbellies of leaves;
it smiles, wickedly, and applies enough force
to show me it could push me over,
if it liked.
i fear for the porch-seedlings,
the young tomatoes, and yet
they are never torn apart.
how can their gentleness withstand this torment?
it is almost five years since you’ve gone.
split, i move blindly through to some similar parallel,
searching for someone who is able to take my hand.
03/10/2014 Posted on 04/22/2017
Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 04/23/17 at 03:00 AM Ah, but could I take your hand and hold till the tears left your heart. But I know with some things it takes forever and even that may not suffice. Some things we just have to live with as difficult as that can be. Take care lady. |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 04/24/17 at 04:06 AM ...the poem is almost in flight when we read the five-year mark from the speaker, the language pulls me forward in my creaky chair, and I am dead with desperation too, holding my breath in an avalanche, refusing still to succumb, gaining strength to witness the eventuality, wanting to say back to put your hands in your pockets. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/13/17 at 11:05 AM Enjoyed this very much, Brynn. Lively, captivating prose...dialogue. Glad I had a chance to read it. |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 07/13/17 at 07:16 PM I have goosebumps, little bird. |
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