Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Celia Gilbert

a leaf just separating from the stem
dirty jar, washed for new use
suddenly minded, a name called back
an old letter stuck between the pages of a book
the cup she meant to return
the dress that once fit
a spool of thread without the thread
the mail carrier coming to the front door
her motherís wedding picture
filling a measuring spoon very slowly
running footsteps
a screw
branches of a dried fern
weathered copper roofing
everything /anything that casts a shadow
the expectations of an easel
hope for a clue
quarreling/making up
a pack of playing cards
a jack of spades
dominosí dumb speak
wind from the south
the back of his neck
cupped hands with water
steam-hissing radiator.

Copyright © 2016 by Celia Gilbert.