Little Vines —Claudia McGill

hold a cool thin hand in your own
without needing to know
whose it is

even fists
even fingernails that scratch
express grief

it was no place for a caterpillar
everyone said
but one was there anyway
determined to thrive

she wants the door knob
to turn she wants
to be doing the turning for a change

a rainy moody autumn-style
heavy dull ache
this summer just can’t shake off

I cry
and then I
wring out my memories

I’ll sit alone in the restaurant
but would it be prudent
even to enter its doors?

come home with me and the pink orchid
in the front window and the new baby
asleep in her room upstairs
come home with me

Read more —Claudia McGill

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: