May - Poem 31

parnassus and its wild dogs, a cento / Sonya Wohletz

Lines taken from Meredith Ann Avera, Desirae Chacon, Heather Frankland, John Hanright III, Jillian Humphrey, Shane Moran, Christina Vaagenius, and Sonya Wohletz.

i dreamed the dogs again—
a fever dream
as big brown eyes, marked with stars.
follow them wet, alive—

like an old friend:
the fog-licked lake,
every patch of green with wildflowers—
one peak to the next:
purple, pink, light red.

music of life
plays in their ears.
weight of an unsaid stay
heavy on my tongue.

pale light whispers
into the doorway
holding the sleeping puppies
by the nape of the neck.

years folded over years,
the scent of holiness,
the wonder of
your singing,

calling—come to me, come
borrow my ears.

what should we name
such an act of return—
of calling
beauty to the ruin?

specter of responsibility—your face
wobbling on my shoulder.
snuggle, little beast.

i fed you all you wanted
and then you were gone.

i’m trying to remember—

since birth i have been
my own witness—
the body—a costume.
now that it’s gone

wild back here
you, dear friend, soul-pet
you must survive
on the edge of the realm
of life &
the eternal.

i wanted.
i wreaked of willingness.
anything to hold you again—
the animal in my body.

why insist
on the incarnation of a dream?

loyal and intentional of
devotions—the world
become the vicious creature—
seeks out a home.

i will always be your dog.

waiting

waiting

waiting

and your eyes
were all lamb-bright.

Empowering Voices  / Heather Frankland

for Erin

How is it that the dandelion
grows in the cracks of concrete
its lion roar small, but mighty
its voice still practicing being a voice
but it grows despite concrete
and poor soil and neglect and disregard
its bright head blooms and thrives;
its voice carries on to other yards.