December - Poem 21

Let Darkness Be Darkness / Kate Bowers

For Kurt

The next thing that happened was astonishing.
All light left the room.

This was unnoticed for some time,
As we were already asleep. 

The sun had become handbag smol, now 
carried by the woman who strings stars
Across her antlers.

The cat was disturbed, not
By the now smolness of the big, big sun, nor
By the antlered woman strewn with stars.

But by no moon for shadows, no
Shapes on the wall moving.
Did I mention that the cat itself was black?

Otherwise, all would have passed unknown,
Uncovered still. 

What was seen could not be visualized or heard.
The stars insensible to us then.

Let darkness be darkness.

Patchwork / Katie Collins

I’m a rough-made quilt
Patched together from the scraps of everything and everyone
I’ve ever known
Sewn in intricate
Trying desperately to keep everything together
Never knowing when to let a piece go
Wrap yourself in my warmth
In the winter months
I’ll keep you safe and satisfied
You won’t even notice
As a small piece of you
Is sewn into my flesh
As you leave
In the spring

A Doomsday Prepper's Quantity of Red Vines and a Beautifully Made Candle with a Holiday Scent / Ellen Ferguson

You used to believe in romance:
a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, red licorice by the fire
            Now  there's no bread, no wine,
            No fire --
            Just a holiday candle &
            Too much red licorice.
You'd rather give us away
As if someone else        had a better chance.

You lit some twigs,       saying:    you light the fire

I'll pick the kids up from the train

But   you weren't speaking to anyone
There    was no one 

You could pick them up              or
They could freeze walking

        No one could check on the brisket
                No one could run to the store, picking up that extra thing besides the thing --

Sometimes you talk to the cat, who is gone
        As if to say, 
        I'll light the fire    You circle round the kids' legs
When they walk from the train                    If they're cold.

Buried Metaphor  / Chris Fong Chew

I buried meaning in metaphor 
six feet under, here it lies, meaning 
died yesterday while writing 
a cheeky stanza 

Remembered as a:
Straight shooter 
Tell it like it is 
Cut to the chase 
Don’t sugarcoat 
Don’t mash your words 

Metaphor and simile 
were damned when 
meaning was demanded 
and clerical words
minced for clarity 
code switch my syntax 
so you can understand. 

It is here meaning died 
between the words 
like and as 
as you are 
digging up definitions 
in my metaphorical 
graveyard.

When nothing of meaning 
was buried here. 

The topography of our life / Davis Hicks

Leaning on leaning on lean on,
your head balancing 
out the chip on my shoulder,
the way compass needle
ever points
past where we’re
going 
to the top
of all there is.

Cascading curls find purchase on my shoulder, 
where I hope you’ll find a home.
Cheeks kind-cushion and marshmallow out when
your grin can handle being itself,
and you being yourself.
Collarbones, drifting downward with relief,
are carved as the riverbeds are,
directing everything gravity calls to
with rushing consistency.
The contours of your face
are the valleys I wish to live in,
are the planting-places
for an ever-growing garden.
Unspoken consensus 
means your hand, or my hand,
finding their holds 
with patient gentleness.
Unafraid that the brush of ourselves 
unmasked is too tender for
hands and lives with callouses,
or eyes too watery
to witness the testimony
tenderness brings
in hands too small
to hold such a world
as you.

1 / Victor Barnuevo Velasco

If they come
knocking, tell
them I left --

a long time ago.
On the very same
day I arrived.

I am not here.
I  am a boy
whose head

is on
his mother’s lap,
as she hums --

trying to remember
the words of a song
he loves.

In Darkness/ Jen Wagner

My goodness. 
How much deeper can I go?
As I thought  was approaching an end.
I find a twist. 
And a turn.
And a cavern that (I swear) wasn’t there before. 
I’ve wandered past 
The blood and the bone. 
To discover the infinate dark. 
A place I must discover…
Alone. 
Even the light that I carry
Is being swallowed whole. 
And my dark whispers to me…
“No, my love…
You may not have light to see. 
Here you must feel,
With fingers and toes.
Your heart,
And your soul. 
But do not be afraid. 
Your light waits for you in the end.”
Until then. 
I keep moving ahead. 
Slow as I must. 
Until the black turns to grey. 
And the grey turns to green. 
And I’ve learned that some things..
Only in darkness…
Can they be seen. 

Winter / Stacy Walker

Daylight disappears,
Darkness takes hold, the moon high,
This is when we heal.