top of page
  • kingalipinska627

April 19, 2023_4 Poems

by Chris Gallagher


A card you sent last year


Now and then I find

the confetti that you put inside

still on my floor here, or there


Glinty pink


I leave it on purpose.


As now you cast your silence to my every corner.


 

My Comforter


The blanket at the foot of your bed—

Unfold it only for me


As I sleep in a stream of sun


On your midday couch.


 

Sanctuary


It’s a long story

She said

And promptly forgot it


She proceeded to tell it

Shopping to sell it

Lies and some lies

Truth and half-true


Sea elder longs for the uphill lie

Sanctuary waits beyond the curvèd drive


It’s simple

She said

But no it is not

Mixing like cocktails


We promptly drank

And forgot.


 

Johns Island Rain


Warm four in the morning rain


Storms out to sea that flash and roll—

mourning in silence


Storms weave themselves in, out of backroad plots


Thundertops tower improbably past that flat beach

horizon


Science fiction forests of cloud rise as an angry army of

electric moisture


A huddle of small low islands; sways.


What can you do? Nothing.


Tilt your head back and let the centuries run rivulets

down the corner of your mouth into the salt marsh and gravel shoulder of the

roads—


Dry Street and Winnies Way; Shadow Pond and Blackground


The Cassique chiefs— Black-Crowned Night Herons

wordlessly watch as we ground and spit their old

bones into fairway mulch.


The storm has merged with the sea to the east— your

poor tracks in her wake; gone.


A small last pebble of time before the island calls her

warm, patient life to stir.




12 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page